


Love and War

by writteninthestarsforlou



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Bottom Louis, General Harry, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, I’ll add more tags later, King Louis, M/M, Nick Grimshaw is a prince, Prince Louis, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Royalty AU, Soldier Harry, Soldier Liam, Soldier Niall, Soldier Zayn, Top Harry, War AU, alcohol use, but he’s an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninthestarsforlou/pseuds/writteninthestarsforlou
Summary: Prince Louis Tomlinson of Doncaster escapes imprisonment after being raped and kidnapped by the prince of another kingdom. With his family dead and his dignity tainted, his heart is out for vengeance and justice as the next rightful king.He tries to keep a low profile for the time being, hiding his identity while staying at one of his army’s military camps. Complications lie in the odd characters he meets there, especially that of the legendary General Styles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: there is a rape scene in this first chapter. If that triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please skip the first section of the chapter!!!
> 
> Other than that, please leave kudos and comments! I know my other works have been put on a hold for a long time, but I thought I would give you guys this to tide you over for a couple of days before I start updating again.
> 
> I’M BACK FOR REAL THIS TIME!!!

Looking back, Louis regrets being too proud to really listen his swordsmanship mentor. “Your Majesty,” he’d say with an air of exasperation as he knocked the prince to the ground yet again, “your form and technique are impeccable, but you need to be more aware of your surroundings. You never know when someone may try and take you by surprise.” It was good advice. Perhaps, if he had taken that into consideration, he wouldn’t be in his current situation.

 

Louis dropped the book he had been reading, the soft thud that it made on his bedspread muffled by the pounding of his heart in his eardrums. In the amber glow of his bedroom stood a man not much older than himself, dressed just as nicely as royalty should be. He was vaguely familiar: elvish features, tall, lanky, pale, dark hair, bright eyes. Louis knew his face, but from where?

 

“Your highness,” he greeted with a grin and a polite bow, amusement evident in his eyes as he took in Louis’ petrified form, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

 

Snapping out of his initial shock, Louis scurried out of his bed and grabbed the empty glass bottle off of his nightstand. He held it out in front of his body, despite the two men being on opposing sides of the room. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?” Louis interrogated, making his way to the foot of the bed, wary of not being cornered.

 

His scowl deepened when the stranger laughed, raising his hands above his head in a mocking surrender. “Woah, kitty’s got claws, huh? It’s okay, your highness. Allow me to explain. I’m Nicholas Grimshaw. Although, you can call me Nick, of course.”

 

Louis slowly lowered the bottle but kept it tight in his grip. So that’s where he knew him from. “From the Kingdom of Oldham?”

 

“The very same,” he replied coolly, letting his arms fall to his sides. “As a fellow royal, I’d feel a lot safer if you weren’t holding a potential weapon to my face.”

 

“I’d feel better if there wasn’t an unauthorized prince in my bedroom, but here we are.”

 

Nick chuckled, taking a step closer, to which Louis raised the bottle up once more. He stopped walking once again, and Louis didn’t fail to notice the irritation that flashed across his face but was quickly replaced with indifference.

 

“Louis, there’s really no need for that.”

 

“Give me one good reason as to why not, and I’ll consider.” Despite his confident speech, Louis was still terrified on the inside, screaming for someone to help him out of this confusing situation.

 

“We’re not here to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

“We?”

 

A crash echoed from within the halls of the castle, a high-pitched scream following soon after. Louis’ face paled. It sounded like one of his sisters.

 

His attention was on the door and for just a second too long, apparently, because as soon as he turned back around, the other prince was all he could see before he was knocked back onto his bed.

 

“I apologize for my men’s terrible manners. They weren’t exactly trained to handle these sorts of matters with etiquette.” Louis struggled as Nick climbed over him, putting the weight of his body down on Louis’ own. He was heavier than he looked. “As for me,” he continued, settling on top of Louis with a hungry glint in his eye as he stared down at the blue-eyed prince, “I plan to take care of you like the royalty that you are.”

 

Louis was a lot of things, but he was certainly not naive.

 

“Stop, please!” he cried out, trying his best to thrash around out of Nick’s grip, but it only seemed to anger the other Royal more.

 

“Stop struggling, you little—” Louis didn’t stop struggling, and with all of the strength he could muster, he ripped his arm out of Nick’s hand and shoved Nick down to the floor. Louis immediately made a dash for the door, and he could feel Nick right behind him. Right as got his hand on the doorknob, he felt a tug on his hair. The back of his knees were kicked in so that he fell onto them, and he screamed as he was pulled back by his hair into the bedroom once more.

 

His body was thrust carelessly to the floor, and he looked up just in time to see Nick standing over him.

 

“I tried to be civil with you, your highness,” he said, venom dripping off of every word, “but I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

 

Nick dropped to the floor, kneeling over Louis once more. Tears welled up in his eyes as Nick reeled his fist back and came down with a dizzying amount of force onto his temple. This happened three more times before Louis was barely conscious enough to register what was going on around him at this point. He could hear Nick talking, and he could hear the screams coming from outside his bedroom, but everything sounded distorted and distant, like he was underwater.

 

He could feel everything, though. He felt Nick’s hands as they tore off his clothes, felt his mouth all over his skin, dirtying him. He felt the horrible burn when Nick took him on the floor like he wasn’t even a person, like he was some kind of object. He tried to grab Nick, to tell him to stop, but it was all in vain. 

 

He felt Nick in every place a stranger should never be, felt his back burning against the carpet floor. He felt everything and could do nothing. 

 

His innocence was taken that night, along with everything else important to him in his life.

 

Nick had knocked him out when he began to come back to his senses and began screaming and trying to leave again.

 

The next time he woke up, he was in a small room where a man with empty, sorrowful eyes was sitting in a chair by the door.

 

Louis shot up straight, but fell back down a bit, his head pounding.

 

“What the hell?” he murmured, sitting up carefully this time. He examined the room. It was small and dark with only the necessities, it appeared. A bed, which he sat on, a water basin and a bucket, a small table under a too-high-up-to-escape-out-of window, and a chair, which the new mystery man sat in. Louis gasped and shuffled back until he was against the wall. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m not here to hurt you, your highness. Nick doesn’t even know that I’m in here.”

 

Louis’ heartbeat stuttered. It all started coming back to him, and he suddenly felt like throwing up, so he did. He dashed over to the bucket in the room and threw up, the disgust and terror crawling over his skin like a parasite. He leaned his arm against the rim of the bucket when he was finished, catching his breath.

 

Louis curled up into a ball on the floor, not crying but rather, staring down the other person in the room. “He raped me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He violated me, he violated my home, my family—”

 

“Your family is dead, your highness.”

 

His heartbeat stopped altogether at that. That couldn’t be true. This person was lying to break him even further.

 

“You sadistic bastard. They aren’t dead.”

 

“They are.”

 

“ _ No they are not! Stop feeding me your bullshit!” _

 

The man rose from the chair with a frightening amount of speed for a man of his size. “ _ Listen to me _ !” he roared, causing Louis to visibly shake and recoil into himself. He was standing, too, now, leaning against the adjacent wall. The stranger sighed and rubbed his neck when Louis looked up at him with fear in his eyes. “Look, kid,” he started, “I don’t agree with what’s happened here. I was there. I know what happened that night, and I think you have a right to know what’s really going on out there,” he confessed, gesturing vaguely to the window above them.

 

Louis made his way over to the bed again, sitting cross-legged on top of it. He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared after… after everything,” he sobbed quietly. He sniffled, sighing and raising his head to face his new potential ally. “What’s your name?”

 

“I’m Paul. It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Louis.”

 

“The pleasure’s all mine. Though, I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Also, just Louis, please.”

 

Paul laughed. “We have met, Louis. Multiple times, even.”

 

Louis quirked a brow. “Have we? Are you a noble?” He feels like he would remember a noble who looked as rough as Paul did, who had the sheer  _ presence  _ that he did. Paul shook his head. “A general?”

 

“I’m one of the stable hands at the castle, your hi — er— Louis. I’ve been at the castle for longer than you’ve been alive.”

 

Louis’ eyes lit up at the information, his legs dropping to the floor and his body jolting in excitement. “You’re from Doncaster! Why haven’t you alerted anyone? Paul, you could get me home!”

 

“I’m afraid it isn’t that easy,” he replied gently. Louis watched as Paul leans back, the chair creaking from old age. He scratched the scruff of his beard as he thought, his eyes darting between Louis and the floor. “Nobody is supposed to be in your presence, except for Grimshaw. This is a tower connected to his castle. Sneaking out the stolen prince wouldn’t exactly be an easy feat… unless,” Paul leaned forward once more, resting his elbows on his knees, “unless you were able to either get him to let you out of the room somehow or, at least, make it seem that way.”

 

“The latter sounds like the more realistic option,” Louis interjected. His eyes grew dark as he met Paul’s. “We could also just kill him.”

 

“I would agree, but it’s too risky right now.” Paul scoffed and stood from his chair, pacing the room. “If Prince Grimshaw is found dead in here, there will be more hell to pay than if we just got you out of here.”

 

“Can I ask you something?” Louis asked. Paul stopped pacing and turned to him with a nod. “How did you get here, if you aren’t one of Grimshaw’s men?”

 

“I told you, I was there that night. I was able to take out two of Grimshaw’s men by the stables and take their gear. Lord knows that prince has his head too far up his own ass to notice that I wasn’t part of his team. No one else seemed to question it, either. I saw Grimshaw carrying you out of the castle, so I followed, looking for answers.” He smiled, earnest and warm. “I’m glad that I did. Having someone like you in power is worth the risk.”

 

“Thank you,” Louis whispered, his face heating up from the compliment. The gravity of everything was weighing him down to where he sat. His family was dead, and he was— as far as he knew— the king, as of right now. He shook the screams of his sisters out of his head, and he tried to swallow down any sort of image of his parents, defenseless and horrified. “Also, what happened to my family? You told me they were dead,” Louis pressed, his eyes forlorn but brimming with rage.

 

“In truth, I’m not really sure. All I know is that they are dead. Your father and your sister, Charlotte, were awake at the time, both in her room, though I’m not sure why. I assume that the others were asleep, at the time.”

 

Louis nodded, hanging on to every word. He had always grown up knowing that his family had a few enemies and many allies. He knew that there was always the potential for something like this, but the reality of it always seemed too far-fetched. Being in this prison cell of a tower, surrounded by silence and darkness, Louis realized that this is what it means to be a king: to live through tragedy and get through it for the sake of your people.

 

With this in mind, Louis stood up and faced Paul. “We’re getting out of here, Paul. I’m Louis Tomlinson, last of his name, King of Doncaster, and I am not dying in this shithole.”

 

Paul grinned. “You sound like a leader. Now, all you need is your kingdom.”

 

“And I intend to get it back. Give me as much information as you can about the layout of this castle and Prince Nicholas’ schedule, and we can get started on getting out of here.”

 

—————

 

The plan took three months to plan out. In those three months, Louis has been through hell. Nick came up almost every night right after sundown, and Louis had to mentally prepared himself each time for it. At first, he would fight back, would try finding clever ways of keeping him locked out or would try to knock him out. His attempts rarely worked and mainly ended with some form of injury on his own end, or some form of greater punishment. He was getting thinner by the day, his diet sparse and limited. Eventually, Louis learned to simply take his mind to other places, thinking of his family, of his kingdom, and of his revenge that would later come.

 

Paul would visit him whenever he was able, and they would get closer and closer to escaping every day. Paul took the maps and planning with him, in case Nick ever decided to go through his things. It never happened, but it was just a precaution.

 

It was exactly on the three month mark that their plan was ready to be put into action.

 

Louis’ body practically vibrated from adrenaline and anxiety. Paul, on the other hand, kept calm. “Okay, are you ready?” he asked, placing a comforting palm on Louis’ shoulder. “You’ve done this a million times. We’ve practiced. You have to keep his eyes on you, okay? I’ll be under the bed until…” he trailed off, gesturing for Louis to finish his sentence.

 

“Until I get the key out of his pocket and sweep it under to you.”

 

“Exactly. Then, you’re out of here forever.”

 

They stared at each other for a long time, both grinning with the excitement of it all. They pulled each other into a tight embrace, and Louis’ mind briefly thought back to his father. By the time they pulled apart, Louis’ eyes had filled with tears. “Thank you.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Louis. There’s no need to thank me. You’re the brave one. I’m just the accomplice.”

 

They laughed and attempted to calm their nerves for the next couple of hours until the sun began to set. The room was quiet by the time it was dark.

 

“It’s now or never,” Louis said, mostly to himself, before he turned to Paul, who patted his back and walked over to the door. He pressed his ear to it, and the silence crowded the room for no more than an hour before Paul stepped away, hurriedly whispering, “it’s time,” before sliding all the way under the bed and against the wall, where he was nowhere to be seen in the darkness of the room.

 

Louis took a shaky step towards the door. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, counting between the inhales and the exhales. The fear that all of this could go wrong threatened to overtake him, but he pushed it aside. They had made plan B and C and D and had thought of every possible way this could go wrong and what to do if it did.

 

He thought of his people, of his family, of the innocence that had been taken from him. He thought of these things, and the fear disintegrated in the flames of resentment and determination.

 

He was ready when the door opened.

 

“Okay, Lou, it’s been a long day, and I don’t have the patience for you to whine tonight, so get on the bed.” Nick began ordering before he’d even shut the door.  _ Typical bastard _ , Louis thought bitterly. He didn’t move. Nick turned around to face him, and his face contorted in exasperation. “Louis, get on the fucking bed.” He shoved Louis with enough force to knock him into the bed and flipped him onto his hands knees.

 

“Wait!” he protested, flipping around and grabbing Nick’s wrist. He laced his fingers with Nick’s, obviously catching the older prince by surprise. “I was thinking that… I want to look at you. Tonight, I want to face you, Nick.”

 

There was a heavy,  _ long  _ pause. Louis took it as an opportunity to sell it, rather than wait for some sort of rejection. He took advantage of Nick’s vulnerability, slowly pushing them both up to a sitting position with his free hand and straddling his waist. He fiddled with the buttons of Nick’s shirt, then looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Let me undress you?” It was a command, but it came out as more of a coy request.

 

Nick smirked, finally out of his catatonic state, and Louis had never wanted to knock his teeth in more. “Yeah, babe. I’m glad you’re finally starting to get it.”

 

“Come here.” Louis stood back up, situating them so that Nick was facing the door, away from the bed, and Louis was facing him. He slowly began to undress Nick, tossing each item as close to the edge of the bed as he could without looking suspicious. Paul’s arm shuffled through pockets out of his peripheral vision. When he got to Nick’s trousers and pants, he stripped them off at the same time, getting on his knees and signaling for Nick to step out of them. He complied, and Louis tossed the last articles of clothing towards him and gave him a brief glance before peering back up at the prince with a seductive glint in his eyes.

 

“What are you waiting for?”

 

_ Wow _ ,  _ even when I’m basically gagging for it, he’s still a prick _ , Louis thought as he smiled up at Nick.

 

“I was just taking you in. I’m sorry for being so difficult all this time.”

 

Nick carded his fingers through Louis’ hair, and it made the king want to burn himself alive.

 

“It’s okay. I knew you’d come around.”

 

_ Bastard. _

 

Louis slowly stood up, making it as sensual as he could without throwing up, and began kissing the prince. He kept his eyes open, watching Paul’s every move. He was slowly crawling out from beneath the bed, key clutched in his left hand. Louis could have cried.

 

Then Paul’s ankle hit the corner of the bed.

 

Nick’s eyes snapped open, but before he could say anything, Louis moaned over it and flipped them around. Louis fell back on the bed, pulling Nick down with him and kissing him fervently.

 

Nick pulled away from the kiss, looking down at Louis with more confusion and awe than before. “Damn, you’re really desperate for me, huh?” he said, that arrogant smirk slipping back onto his face. He could see Paul standing up straight, getting ready to see everything through. “You know what? Just because you’re being so good, I’ll even get you ready this time.”

 

“Oh, that’s okay, Nick,” he replied, his voice radiating a sarcastic kind of sweetness that had Nick laughing confusedly.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that I’m ready.” The coy smile on Louis’ face fell and was replaced with a lethal glare. “I’ve been ready for a long fucking time, you piece of shit.”

 

Nick’s face twisted into rage, and right before he could make a comment, Paul yanked him back by his shoulder and rammed his head into the wall. Nick howled in pain, and Paul repeated the act until the room was silent. He wasn’t dead, but he wouldn’t be up for a long while.

 

The two conscious people in the room looked at each other.

 

“Holy shit,” Louis breathed. “Holy shit!”

 

“Yeah, I know. Let’s save the profanities for when we’re out of here, though. We have to be off the premises before he wakes up.”

 

“Right. You have the key?”

 

Paul waved it around in his hand before Louis blew out the candle and the two exited the room, Paul locking the door behind them.

 

They ran down the stairs, and Louis’ blood was pumping with adrenaline. He had never been more excited to see a set of stairs in his life.

 

Paul, on the other hand, was way ahead of Louis.

 

“Let’s go, Louis, come on!”

 

“Well,  _ excuse me  _ for not being able to exercise in the past three months!”

 

They get to the bottom of the stairs, and Paul opens up the door. Just like that, Louis is outside for the first time in three months.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it yet. Not until he knows he’s a safe distance away from this place. Paul fixes him with a look.

 

“Okay. I’m going to carry you out for a while, but after that, you’re on your own. You can’t go back to Doncaster yet, but one of your military camps is set up about fifteen miles from here. After that, I’ll head back to Doncaster inform everyone that you’re alive and about the plan.”

 

Louis wanted nothing more than to protest. He wanted to argue with Paul to just let him go home, but he knew that it would only bring more trouble if he were to be recognized by someone in Grimshaw’s territory. He needed to keep a low profile for now.

 

“Right. Let’s go then.”

 

—————

 

The sun had barely begun to rise when Louis finally made it to the camp, but he could see soldiers already moving about the area.

 

Paul had given him some stolen clothes from the servant’s quarters before they parted ways, telling him to keep a low profile until news got to the camp that he was alive. He wasn’t sure how a bandana and baggy servant’s clothes were going to do him any favors, but he figured that he was already frail and ragged enough now to look somewhat unrecognizable. That, and he trusted Paul, so he sighed and made his way to the campgrounds.

 

His legs felt like they were about to give out by the time he’d made it to the edge. He sat down behind a tree, letting himself rest a bit before trying anything. He fell asleep before he could realize it.

 

—————

 

“Is he one of ours?”

 

“Uh, no? I don’t recognize him, but there’s a fuck ton of people at this camp, so I’m not sure. He looks too small to be a soldier.”

 

Louis heard the voices but didn’t open his eyes. Where was he again?

 

“You think he’s a spy for Grimshaw?”

 

“He looks harmless, Liam. I don’t think he’s much of anything.”

 

“Well, only one way to find out. Oi!”

 

Louis felt something blunt nudge into his shoulder, and his eyes shot open.

 

Oh. That’s right.

 

He’s at a military camp. These must be his men.

 

There were two of them standing over him, one of them crouched down to his level. One had short-cropped hair and brown eyes which looked very friendly despite his intimidating broad stature. The other soldier, much less threatening, looked a bit younger than the first. He had blue eyes and was less muscular than his companion. Neither looked quite ready to kill him. Nothing is out of the realm of possibility, however.

 

“Oi,” the same voice repeated, and Louis matched it to the scarier soldier.

 

“Hello,” Louis greeted weakly.

 

“Are you alright? We found you passed out over here,” the other soldier said, Irish accent filtering through his words. “You aren’t a spy, are you?”

 

“Niall, come on.”

 

“ _ What _ ? He’s not going to lie to us. He’s on  _ Styles _ ’ camp. If he was a spy, he’d know better than to lie.”

 

“Wait, as in Harry Styles?” Louis couldn’t help the awe in his voice. He’d heard of Harry Styles, the bastard son of Desmond and Anne Cox, one of youngest military general in history, practically. Doncaster was lucky to have him, being a legend and all.

 

Both of the soldiers’ eyes narrowed at Louis.

 

The brown-eyes soldier’s expression changed to something confounded.

 

“Either you’re a terrible spy, or you’re just lost.”

 

“I’m not a spy,” Louis quickly clears up with an eye roll. “I’d rather choke on the barrel of a gun than work for that dirtbag.”

 

Niall cackled while the other unnamed soldier whistled lowly, trying to hold back a smile.

 

“Damn. Alright, I guess you aren’t working for the Grimshaw territory. Glad to hear it. I’m Liam, by the way, and this is Niall.” He gestured to himself and the Irish soldier respectively.

 

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Lou— um. Lewis. I’m Lewis.”

 

Liam and Niall looked at him quizzically.

 

“Lewis, huh?”

 

_ Fuck. _

 

“Yes. My name is Lewis.”

 

Niall lifted Louis up by his arm with a grin and a pat to the back. “Well, Lewis, we aren’t supposed to let unauthorized personnel into the campgrounds, but I think you’re funny, and I don’t think Styles will notice if you keep to yourself.”

 

“Niall!” Liam exclaimed. “You can’t just bring him into the camp. That’s suicide!”

 

“Oh come off it, Liam. Styles won’t find out, and if he does, I doubt he’ll care for two reasons.” Niall took Louis’ face between his fingers and shook it around. “First of all, he’s adorable. Harry will like that because, as we all know, even though he doesn’t say it, he likes men like Lewis, and second…” Niall let Louis’ face go in lieu of putting them both on his hips. “If we tell him that he was just some small, fragile kid on the verge of death, he’d be more proud of us than angry. What’s the worst he can do, make us do dishes for three days?”

 

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger, and, after a few seconds of contemplating, he wiped his palms on his pants, then shrugged and sighed exasperatedly. “Fine, but he’s staying in your tent, and if we get caught, I’m knocking your ass into next week during sparring.”

 

“Deal!” Louis and Niall shouted at the same time.

 

Liam already looked like he regretted the decision the second he made it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis stays at the camp, trying to keep his identity hidden... it doesn’t go too well.
> 
> Also, he is suddenly curious about the elusive General Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Please leave comments and kudos! Tell me what you think!

Louis had never grown out his beard before, and it was killing him that he had no idea what he looked like, namely because not one soldier at the camp recognized him.

 

He had at least expected a few odd looks, but all he got was a series of curt pardon me’s and a few jokes about how he was too small to be a soldier. The latter almost got him into a few fights before they’d even made it to Niall’s tent.

 

“It isn’t much, but there’s enough room for the both of us in here,” the Irishman said as he pulled open one side of the tent’s entrance, allowing Louis to take a look inside. It was a dreamboat compared to where he had just stayed for the past three months, so he was grateful. There was a lantern hooked to the top beam of the structure, snacks that were obviously stolen from previous meals, and Louis even noted the few books that were stacked by Niall’s makeshift bed. Louis’ eyes trailed over to the food again. It helped that Niall was already privy to petty theft.

 

“I’ll try and steal an extra set of linens for you tonight, but you should be fine at the dining hall. God knows you need to eat something, so don’t go off making a scene or anything before manage to sit down.” Although Niall’s words were authoritative, his tone was light, almost excited. There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that reminded Louis of himself, and it was nice to know there was at least one person here that he could look at and immediately tell he was genuine.

 

“I guess not a lot of exciting things happen at the Styles training grounds, then? You did just sort of pick me up out of the woods and all. Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Louis thought that maybe he’d said too much, may have turned up Niall’s suspicion when it didn’t need to be.

 

Niall just laughed though, hearty and genuine. He closed up the tent once more and scanned Louis up and down with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not dangerous. If I needed to— though I don’t want to— I could kill you in ten seconds flat. I don’t think you could hurt a fly”

 

Louis’ feathers bristled at that. If only he knew.

 

“I am not some kind of weak child, Niall,” Louis couldn’t help but argue, putting on a powerful stance with his hands on his hips and his chin tilted up. “I will have you know that I have been in swordsmanship training since birth, practically. I could incapacitate you before you could ask why.” On the inside, Louis smacked his head against a wall. He needed to learn to swallow his pride.

 

“Swordsmanship? Incapacitate? You talk like noble,” Niall replied, an intrigued expression crossing his features.

 

Louis froze. “I—”

 

“Relax, Lewis,” Niall chuckled, waving a dismissive hand, “I’m just saying, if you want to survive here, you’re gonna have to get down on everyone else’s level. I don’t know where you’re from, but for right now, we—” he moved a hand back and forth between them, “—are on the same level. Not everyone here is a nice guy, Lewis.” Niall gave him a lopsided smirk. “Just keep your cockiness to a minimum, alright?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes as the pair began to walk again. “I’m not cocky,” he retorted. “I just know my abilities. There’s no harm in having confidence.”

 

Niall only snorted in response, shaking his head. “Definitely a noble.” Louis was silent, and Niall took notice, side-eyeing his smaller companion. “Wow, was I right, then? I was just kidding around, but if you’re actually a noble, you probably need to get the hell out of here. These guys will eat you alive.”

 

Louis swallowed, trying his best to appear unfazed as he made eye contact with Niall. “I’m not a noble.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Niall singsonged in response, and Louis just let the silence settle between them at that.

 

Liam said that he would meet them for dinner, and Louis could have cried with relief when he saw him, the silence nearly suffocating him.

 

“What’s for dinner, Payno?” Niall shouted when they were at a reasonable distance, his hands cupped over his mouth. Liam raising his head from the ground that he was frantically pacing on. His eyes met Niall’s first, and when they landed on Louis’, his face fell into a mild despair.

 

“Oh, so you weren’t just a figment of my imagination. Fantastic.”

 

“Well, fuck. Thank you, Liam.”

 

“No, no! Nothing against you, mate,” Liam quickly countered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just that I’m not really equipped for espionage, I guess.”

 

Louis raised an eyebrow, scanning the dining hall that was opened up behind them. The soldiers were deeply enveloped in their presumably rare free time, focused on food and conversation. He was fairly sure that most of these men probably didn’t know each other. Why would anyone give him a second glance? “You really think dealing with these tossers classifies as espionage? I think it’d be more difficult to  _ attract  _ attention at this point than avoid it.”

 

Niall hummed in agreement, his eyes trying to scout out the food over the sea of soldiers in line. “I suppose so,” Liam relented, his body relaxing a bit. “I’m more worried about General Styles seeing you. He knows everyone by name, somehow. If he sees you, he’ll know something’s off.”

 

“Oh, come now. He can’t be that scary. He’s how old again, sixteen?”

 

“Twenty-six,” Niall interjected, grabbing Louis’ arm tightly and pulling him a bit closer. “Watch what you say about Styles,” he warned. “He’s the best General these kingdoms have seen in a long time. I know that you’re new here, but be careful with disrespecting him like that. You never know who’s listening.” With that, Niall let him go and patted the part of Louis’ arm that he’d just grabbed. “I’m not trying to scare you,” he said, more jovial this time. “I’m just looking out for you. Also, Harry is my friend. I don’t like seeing people bashing on him, you know?”

 

Louis nodded slowly, wide-eyed. Liam coughed into his hand and gestured for them to follow him inside the massive, open tent.

 

The sounds of the dining hall buzzed around them like static, all around and yet somehow undistracting. Louis got in line between Niall and Liam, scanning the food options as he passed. He was surprised to see actual food and not just the slop he had imagined training camps would serve. There was rice and salted meat, crackers and rum. The alcohol surprised him the most.

 

“You’re allowed to drink?” Louis asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

 

Liam laughed heartily at that, as did Niall. “We  _ are  _ soldiers, Lewis,” is all Liam said in response. Louis had always imagined soldiers needing to be completely focused at all times, constantly prepared to fight and dominate. He supposed now that that was a silly notion. Everyone drinks.

 

“I’ve never really been drunk before,” Louis admits, grabbing a ladle full of rice and dumping it onto his plate. “I mean, I have, but only at social events, and even then, I don’t know if I would have considered that  _ drunk _ .”

 

Niall gawked at him like he had just figured out he was talking to the king, but Louis knew better. “You’ve never been drunk?” he said, but it came out more like a question. He filled a mug almost fully to the rim and handed it to Louis before doing the same for himself and Liam. “Looks like we need to change that!”

 

The three men sat down at the end of one of the long wooden tables, Louis sitting next to Niall and Liam across from them. All three of them dig into their food without prompting, and Louis nearly moaned at the taste of real food. It had been nothing but water and the occasional snacks Nick would bring him if he was in a good mood, and even those weren’t exactly standard.

 

“This is the best meal I’ve had in months,” Louis praised around a mouthful of rice.

 

Niall nodded, wiping his mouth with his forearm. “Now you sound like a normal person. Where did you come from, anyways? You never said.”

 

Louis swallowed his rice, each grain now feeling like a razor blade. “Well,” he dragged out, reaching for his mug of rum, taking a swig before continuing, “I was actually in Grimshaw territory. I was… I guess you could call me a prisoner of war.” Louis’ face darkened exponentially, his eyes set on the table as if it was showing him visions of something far away.

 

“What do you mean, war? There’s no war,” Liam argued, but his eyes darted to Niall, who just shrugged with an equal amount of nervous energy.

 

“Not yet,” Louis replies cryptically. “There will be, though, and we need to be ready for it.”

 

“Who says?” Liam asked, clearly discomforted by the threat of an incoming war. Louis wishes he could understand that fear, the fear of being shipped off to risk your life at any moment. It takes a certain kind of man to volunteer for something like war.

 

“I do, and trust me when I say that my words shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

 

Niall turned from his seated position, facing Louis fully now. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he leaned in ever-so-slightly.

 

“Who  _ are  _ you, Lewis? You’re clearly from Donny, and you’re not a noble, but you sure as hell act like one. You aren’t a spy, but you apparently know about a war before it even starts, so what is it then?”

 

Louis didn’t turn his head, didn’t say a word, and the silence hung between the three of them for a long while.

 

Louis contemplated telling them. If he revealed his identity, what were the odds that they would expose him and tell General Styles? If he explained that he needed to keep a low-profile, would those odds go down? Or…

 

Louis recalled the genuine concern in Liam’s voice when he had asked about the war, the seriousness in Niall’s tone when wondering about his intentions.

 

Would they go so far as to be silent for their king?

 

“Let me give you a scenario,” Louis finally cut through the silence, letting go of his mug. The two soldiers didn’t move a single muscle. It didn’t bother Louis. He continued, “an injured cat has found its way into your home. If you toss it back out as it is, it is sure to die. It’s an extremely rare breed, valuable in a way that could change your lives for the better, but your spouse is also allergic to cats. What do you do?”

 

Niall and Liam look a bit thrown off by the question, and Liam is the first one to reply, “what does this have to do with where your from?”

 

“Answer the question, and I might tell you,” Louis reprimanded gently, lacing his fingers together under the table so that they didn’t shake.

 

Liam sighed and scratched at his beard. “Well, I guess I couldn’t just leave it to die, could I? If it were me, I’d probably hide it out back, feed it, give it water, do whatever I could to get it back to full health.”

 

“Would you tell your spouse?” Louis asked, his eyes burning holes into Liam’s, who let out a whoosh of air.

 

“I mean, I would have to, eventually.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You don’t keep secrets from people you care about, even a stupid thing like a fancy cat in the tool shed.”

 

Louis pursed his lips and gave a single nod before standing up. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure, but I think this may have been a mistake—”

 

“Hold on,” Niall held up a hand. He was still watching Louis, gauging his reaction. “I think the spouse would be pretty understanding, given the value of the cat.”

 

Louis halted his exit, turning his head over his shoulder. “How do you mean?”

 

Niall shrugged, “If the cat had high value, and you could sell it or profit from it or it could somehow make your lives better, I’m sure a good spouse would understand and take precautions with it.” Louis took slow strides back to his seat at the bench next to Niall. He supposed that made sense, but would General Styles need that order, or would he insist Louis return to the capital? When Louis was sat down once again, Niall pressed further, “what makes this cat so valuable anyways?”

 

Louis gulped, scratching at the beard he still wasn’t used to sporting. His eyes played tennis, bouncing back and forth between Niall and Liam, both of which were looking at him expectantly. He knew the underlying question simmering beneath Niall’s inquiry, knew that he was catching on.

 

The most he could do was trust them.

 

“The cat belonged to the Royal Family,” he whispered just loud enough for the two men around him to hear.

 

_ This was probably a mistake _ , Louis thought.  _ I’ll probably have to make my leave here soon _ .

 

He watched as the cogs turned in Niall and Liam’s brains, slowly putting the pieces together. Surprisingly, it was Liam who seemed to catch on first, a gasp leaving his lips and his body leaning in closer as if he was really looking at Louis for the first time.

 

Niall snapped his head towards Liam at that, his brows pinching together. Liam didn’t look back at him. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, covering them, and let out a huff of laughter in disbelief.

 

“You said your name was Lewis,” Liam said through a series of chuckles. “That is the worst cover up I’ve ever heard, and it worked. Niall, we really aren’t equipped for espionage.”

 

Niall still seemed a bit lost, but when he looked back at Louis, Louis stared into his eyes, hoping to silently get the message across. The confusion on the soldier’s face slipped away in place of utter shock.

 

“Holy fuck,” he breathed out, his hand slapping down on the table. He and Liam exchanged a look, then laughed. “Holy fuck!” Niall repeated, bouncing in his seat before both of their attention was back on the newfound king. “Your highness,” Niall whispered lowly, wary of the people around them. “The entire kingdom thought you were dead! This is insane! Why are you here? How did you—”

 

Louis slapped a hand over Niall’s mouth, his eyes examining the dining hall. No one seemed to bat an eye at their interaction. He slowly removed his hand, gesturing for the soldiers to lean in towards the center of the table.

 

“Listen,” Louis ordered, “no one can know my identity as of right now, okay? As your king, I am ordering you to keep your mouths shut. I’ll explain everything, but I need to know that neither of you will breathe a word of this to  _ anyone _ . Do you understand? That is an order.”

 

Louis had never really given an executive command like this. It sounded odd leaving his mouth, but everything was on the line here.

 

There was a weight that nestled itself in the middle of the table, making itself comfortable. “I will explain everything, but I have to know that I can trust you.”

 

“You have my word, your highness,” Liam promised, the same tone as when they first met coming through once more. His face was stoic, but his eyes held a harrowing intensity. Louis nodded, redirecting his gaze at Niall, who nodded as well.

 

“Of course, your highness.”

 

Louis smiled as he felt the weight lift from the table, and he felt as though he could finally breathe again. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Follow me, and I’ll explain everything. I’m going to need your full cooperation, if I’m going to get through this successfully, boys.”

 

With that, Louis stood up from the table again, the two soldiers following suit. They gathered their plates and set them in the designated bin before walking out, but not before smuggling one of the full bottles of rum in Niall’s coat. “Also, just call me Louis. No need for formalities here.” The trio swiftly made their way to the edge of the campsite behind the tent, some odd form of excitement building in their chests. “Looks like something exciting really is happening at the Styles training grounds today!”

  
  


___________

  
  


The sun had gone down, stars glittering like gold in the spring sky. The soldiers had taken their free day off as an opportunity to let loose, the distant laughter and lights of bonfires barely peeking over the tops of the tents and training grounds. It was peaceful for a place dedicated to something so opposite of that.

 

A full bottle of rum in, Louis found the world around him slowing down, calming itself and him in the process.

 

The three men had set up a small fire of their own, drinking and getting to know one another better.

 

Niall was originally from the Mullinger territory in Ireland but moved to Doncaster five years ago following a girl. As it turned out, she found another man, but he had also fallen in love with the Doncaster kingdom too much to go back. He enlisted in the army two years after his arrival. “Ireland is my home,” he had said, “but I’ve built a family of my own in Doncaster.” He clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder, shaking it with a drunken smile that Liam returned with just as much vigor.

 

Louis smiled at the interaction, the warmth in his belly increasing with admiration. “I never had too many real friends in the castle,” he commented, scrunching his nose. “Everyone in the upper class is needy and insufferable.” The trio laughed, Louis shrugging as if to say “it’s true.”

 

“You aren’t what I expected, Louis,” Niall admitted.

 

“What did you expect?” he asked, amusement swimming in his blue irises. “A spoiled brat with a clean shave?”

 

Niall cackled, throwing his head back and shaking his head. “I mean, yeah! You said yourself that the nobility is insufferable.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Louis grinned with a shrug. “I used to get into a lot of trouble. I cursed too much and preferred reading fiction over the logic of politics.” He rolled his eyes as the memories of his father reprimanding him crossed his mind. Soon after, his smile dimmed. “I regret being so rebellious, sometimes. If I had known that my family would be taken away, I wouldn’t have been so…”

 

Niall wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the smell of rum filling his nostrils, and it was surprisingly comforting. “It’s okay. You loved them. I’m sure they knew that.”

 

“They did,” Louis confirmed, nodding with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just wish that there was more I could have done.”

 

“Right,” Liam chimed in. “You said you would explain… what happened, Lou?”

 

_ Lou _ . The nickname made him feel a bit lighter, but it was soon enveloped in resentment as Louis recalled the night in question.

 

His face hardened, and he heard Niall harshly whispering “Liam!”, but Louis waved a dismissive hand. “It’s okay,” he said. “I said that I would.”

 

The crackling of the fire and the chirping of the crickets around them seemed to fade into the background as Louis told his story.

 

“You see, it all happened very suddenly…”

____________

 

“... and now, I’m here, drinking with you fine gentlemen and waiting for Paul to get word back to the camps and the surrounding kingdoms, aside from Grimshaw’s, that is.”

 

He looked up from the fire as he finished recalling the past three months of his life. He met Liam’s eyes across the fire. He looked like he was about to cry or maybe kill a man. Louis knew the feeling.

 

Niall, on the other hand, had stood up from his sitting position, and was pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair out of frustration. He stopped abruptly and turned on his heel towards Louis’ sitting form.

 

His voice was steady, eerily so, as he talked. “I am so sorry that no one was able to protect you, Louis.”

 

“It’s okay—”

 

“It’s not,” Liam cut in, scooting over to Louis’ side. “It’s our job as your security and your citizens to protect the crown. We failed you.”

 

“I failed myself,” Louis shook his head, “I wasn’t strong enough. I just… gave up.”

 

“With all due respect, you were  _ assaulted _ , Louis. You were practically knocked unconscious and  _ raped _ while your family was suffering, too. You didn’t hurt your family, you tried to escape, and that bastard took everything from you. Louis,” Niall took a knee, getting on Louis’ level and grabbing his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You have to know that.”

 

Louis could see the flames flickering in the reflection of Niall’s eyes, everything else on his face unmoving. He felt his own eyes fill with tears. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry for the three months he was held captive by Grimshaw, too focused on his revenge and his anger to grieve. It was all catching up to him now, everything that had happened to him. His family was dead. His innocence had been ripped away from him. He had been dehumanized and violated.

 

Nicholas Grimshaw had no soul, and yet Louis still felt haunted like the man’s ghost was all around him. For the first time in months, Louis let himself cry.

 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the comfort of finally having people around him. Perhaps, it was the confirmation that it really wasn’t his fault. Whatever it was, it made him feel freer than he had when he’d left that tower. He cried for an indiscernible amount of time, and his two newfound friends took it all with grace, comforting him and letting him take in the moment.

 

When he had run out of tears, he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Thank you. I’m sorry,” he said, his tone still shaky.

 

“Of course,” both of them said in unison.

 

Louis composed himself, drying his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Niall, you said that you were a friend of General Styles. How did that come to happen?” Louis asked.

 

The two soldiers sat back in their original positions, and Niall gave him a sympathetic smile. “I met him right after I’d learned that Anna was with someone else. My plan was to drink myself into an early grave, but Harry happened to be at the same tavern I was that night, bless him.” Niall crosses his legs, holding up his knees with his elbows, hands clasped between them. “The twat took my drink right out of my hand and said ‘you’ve had enough. What’s got you so worked up?’ and we got to talking. The rest it history, as they say. We became good friends. Styles was a captain at the time, working his way up the ranks, and I enlisted a year after meeting him upon his recommendation.”

 

“Wow,” Louis said, his eyebrows threatening to reach his hairline. “The brutal General Styles has a soft spot for Irishmen, then.”

 

Niall snorted, “he’s got a soft spot for men, not necessarily me.”

 

“He’s gay?” Louis said, the words more questioning that factual. There was no malice, just faint surprise.

 

Niall snorted again. “He’s a soldier. If you aren’t already married or got a bird back home, chances are that you’ll end up with shagging a man before you get out of here.” Liam guffawed, leaning back onto his hands. “Am I wrong, Li?”

 

“Not really, but don’t go around generalizing like that. You’ll get your teeth knocked in, one of these days.”

 

“Have you ever slept with a man, Liam?” Louis asked, the alcohol throwing out his filter for him. Liam nodded, but didn’t say another word.

 

He was a mysterious character.

 

“Him and Zayn have had eyes for each other since day one. It was only a matter of time.”

 

“Oi, Watch it, Horan.”

 

“Wait, who’s Zayn?” Louis asked, facing Liam with childlike intrigue. “Are you together?”

 

Liam sighed, “more or less.”

 

“More,” Niall stage-whispered to Louis, eyes on Liam, glinting with mischief. “Definitely more.”

 

“Niall!” Liam called out, his face obviously red, despite the darkness of the night around them. “It wouldn’t matter, anyways,” he grumbled, hesitantly glancing at Louis through his peripherals. “The crown doesn’t allow open homosexual relationships, anyways.”

 

Louis blinked. That was a topic that he and his father argued upon frequently. “You’re right,” he relented. “That is the reason I haven’t been married off, after all.” Liam’s eyes widened, his head snapping in the direction of Louis’ voice. “Yes, I’m gay. My father and I argued about it all of the time. My father loved me, regardless, but— as you said— it’s illegal. Having a soon-to-be king openly breaking the law wasn’t exactly ideal. I was pushing to abolish the law before he… before he died.” Louis met Liam’s eyes with the most sincerity he could. “It’s the first thing I plan to overturn upon my return.”

 

Liam’s expression softened, and Louis pulled him into a brief embrace. “You’re a good man, Louis. It’ll be a privilege to have you as our king.”

 

“Oi, I’m already your king!” he retaliated, shoving Liam away playfully.

 

The three of them spent the rest of the night with smiles that never seemed to fade.

  
  


____________

  
  


It had been two weeks since Louis had entered Styles’ training camp, and everything had been going well, considering the circumstances.

 

There had been a lot of sneaking around and a lot of time alone, in Louis’ case. He would stay in Niall’s tent, most of the time, as the soldiers spent their days laboring about the site.

 

He had actually met Zayn at dinner, one night, and it was a rather embarrassing affair for Liam, as Niall constantly cracked jokes, and Louis asked an onslaught of too-intimate questions. Zayn actually took it all with a grain of salt, laughing along and mumbling “you guys are crazy” before moving on to another topic. Louis also didn’t fail to notice that Zayn was  _ beautiful _ . His parents were English and Middle-Eastern, which explained his darker complexion and exotic features. Louis openly made jokes about fancying him, which Zayn went along with, being the good sport he was, and Liam almost had an aneurysm each time he did.

 

All in all, they had formed a little friendship dynamic, and it was refreshing for the soon-to-be King.

 

Louis also snuck around to watch the training, sometimes, as well. 

 

Now, if Zayn was beautiful, General Styles was something else entirely.

 

Louis knew that he was young, but no one had told him how handsome he was. It was staggering, really. He was about a head taller than Louis with brown curls and bright eyes. He tried not to look at the general’s body, as it was known to rile him up in a way that he couldn’t quite deal with at this point in time.

 

The king found himself following Harry around quite a bit, throughout the day. Under any other circumstances, Louis would have considered himself creepy, but he gave himself a pass because he couldn’t exactly  _ talk to him _ , but there was something intriguing about him, looks aside.

 

He had learned quite a bit about the General, given that they had never spoken. True to his word, Niall was close with Styles. Between routines and training reps, they were often talking on the sidelines, laughing and fooling around in a way that Louis found odd. It was a very different Harry Styles than the one that commanded his soldiers with a voice like thunder and the demeanor of a lion on the prowl. Outside of his station, Harry seemed…  boyish. It made sense to Louis. He was only in his mid-twenties like Louis himself, after all.

 

They both had to grow up fast. Louis understood wanting to be childish at times. 

 

The lads had caught on to Louis’ infatuation with General Styles and teased him relentlessly for it, and that was the current situation Louis found himself in: being harassed around a small bonfire by his so-called friends.

 

“I want to shave this god awful beard,” Louis complained, pulling at the facial hair like he had the power to rip it off.

 

Zayn chuckled, “why? Styles isn’t the one who’s going to get a burn between his legs.”

 

The bastards laughed. 

 

“You’re insufferable,” Louis grumbled, standing up from his spot and wiping the dirt from his cloak and pants. “Which one of you had a razor? I’m getting rid of it.”

 

The laughter faded into a series of unsure sounds as the three soldiers looked at one another for answers. When nothing came up, they all turned to Louis and shrugged. “Sorry, mate,” Liam apologized. “Looks like you’ll have to live with it for a while. I personally think you look good! Very rugged, handsome even!”

 

Louis rolled his eyes with a half-hearted “thank you, Liam” before running a hand through his hair and letting out a whoosh of air. “Well, do you know anyone that  _ does  _ have one?”

 

As he finished speaking, something caught his attention. He looked up to see General Styles crossing the campgrounds, reading and marking off something on parchment paper.  _ Must be making his rounds for the night _ , he thought.

 

_ Wait _ .

 

“Styles has a clean shave,” Louis noted, and Niall immediately shook his head and waved his arms frantically, glancing over his shoulder to see Styles as well.

 

“No. No. No. Absolutely not, Louis.”

 

“He’s not even in his tent, Niall. You see him. He’s too busy making sure no one’s smuggling rice to notice someone borrowing his shaving tools.”

 

“Louis, I am telling you that this is a bad idea—”

 

“I’ll be back gentlemen! Don’t miss me too much,” the king called over his shoulder with a sarcastically regal wave.

 

“It’s your funeral!” Liam shouted distantly.

 

Louis ignored their warnings, heading off towards the general’s tent. Aside from a well-needed shave, Louis figured that he may be able to learn a bit more about the elusive Harry Styles.

 

_____________

 

Louis has been in a few castles in his day, and as far as military training grounds are concerned, this was most likely the equivalent.

 

He made sure to scour the area before entering, and when he did, he couldn’t help but let his lips part in awe.

 

The tent was approximately six times the size of Niall’s, housing a full desk, a  _ bed _ , swords and other battle equipment, and a mirror. It was like a small house!

 

Louis looked around, curious as to what a General might keep around in a place like this.

 

In the middle of the tent was a table with a map and a series of figurines on top. Strategy planning, he assumed. He would have to go over that in a moment. Right now, he was on a very specific mission.

 

He made his way over to the desk, a finger tapping absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he examined the items on it.

 

It was far less interesting than Louis had hoped.

 

Pens, parchment paper, a few books, opened envelopes, etc. Nothing out of the ordinary. He briefly skimmed over the envelopes and noted that none of them were from Paul or the Royal Advisory Council. He sighed.

 

He looked over his shoulder once more, just for security, before crouching down on the floor and opening the desk drawers.

 

“Aha!” he whispered, pulling out a straight razor and what Louis assumed to be some kind of cream or soap that accompanied it.

 

He closed the drawer with his hip and waltzed over to the mirror, where he set down his supplies and finally looked at himself for the first time in a long while.

 

He wasn’t surprised that no one recognized him right off the bat. He hardly recognized himself.

 

He looked closer to a beggar than to royalty. His hair had grown a bit, unkempt and shaggy, and he was thinner than he had ever been in his entire life. He was dirty and tired-looking. It made him want to cry, but he shook his head and sighed instead.

 

He gasped, suddenly, and gathered the hanging portion of his cloak in one hand, turning profile to the mirror. With his free hand, he yanked the front of his pants forward so that it was taught to the back of his legs. He sighed when he saw that his bum was still in shape… It was important.

 

He sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

 

He released all of the fabric and gasped when he heard two voices nearing the tent, one of which was definitely General Styles.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered apprehensively, eyes moving all over the tent to find someplace to hide. His eyes landed on the bed.

 

_ Oh, the irony _ .

 

“Yes, we have a message arriving in the morning, so let me know when that arrives, please. It’s urgent, apparently.”

 

Louis’ eyes widened. That was most likely the letter about him.

 

“Of course, General.”

 

“Thank you, Calum. Have a good night.”

 

“You too, General.”

 

Louis crawled under the bed, hiding as much of his body in the shadows as he could and cursing his stubbornness now more than ever.

 

He put a hand over his mouth as the flap of the tent opened. He could see Styles’ boots step into the room, casual and completely unaware of the person hiding under his bed.

 

He watched silently as the General went about his routine. He hummed a little song to himself as he moved, making Louis smile a from behind his hand. The General hung up his coat and set his sword against the table, making his way towards his desk.

 

Louis’ eyes slowly trailed across the floor, stopping on the straight razor and jar that he had definitely  _ left on the floor _ .  _ Fuck. _

 

The humming stopped when the general opened the top drawer. Louis watched helplessly as he pivoted to look behind him. He walked towards the mirror, picking up his sword again on the way. 

 

Louis fleetingly thought about how pissed off he would be if he died like this.

 

Styles tapped the jar with the tip of his sword before stepping back into the center of the room.

 

“Is anyone in here?” Styles’ voice called out into the tent, authoritative and warning. In the silence that followed, Louis could tell that Styles’ was waiting for him to slip up and make himself known. “Not coming out, then? That’s alright. We can play this your way.”

 

That’s when General Styles started searching the room. There weren’t a lot of hiding places, so Louis had a feeling that he was completely and utterly fucked.

 

To his surprise, Styles didn’t look under the bed at all. After a brief scan of the room, she simply sighed and walked over to his bed and threw his body onto it.

 

_ You’re a world-class military leader and you don’t even look under the bed? Wow, I feel so safe. _

 

Louis lowered his hand from his face after a few minutes of silence. Assuming that he had fallen asleep by now, Louis slowly shuffled out from under the bed. However, before he could fully stand up, the back of his cloak was yanked back and he was whirled around, now face to face with General Styles.

 

“AHH SHIT!” Louis screamed, shoving the General back with all of the fear-fueled force he had, knocking him back onto the bed. He took the man’s moment of shock to run over to the straight razor and jar still on the floor.

 

As he picked them up, he was grabbed once again.

 

“Fuck, didn’t your mom ever tell you not to grab people?” Louis shouted, struggling in the other man’s hold.

 

The General, equally as frantic, gave him a look of exasperated confusion and yelled back, “you snuck into  _ my  _ tent! Are you dense?”

 

“Let go of me!”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I’m not a spy!”

 

“Clearly! You’re too small and weak to be a spy!”

 

Silence fell between them.

 

Louis stopped struggling for a moment, his mouth open, clearly offended. “Shut up!”

 

The shouting picked up once again. “ _Who_ _are_ _you_?”

 

“I’m a guy trying to borrow a razor to shave! Who the hell are  _ you _ ?”

 

“The  _ owner _ of that razor! That thing’s a weapon! Why aren’t you using it?”

 

“I’m not trying to hurt you, stupid! I order you to put me down this instant!”

 

Styles set him down and stepped back but raised the tip of his sword to Louis’ chin in lieu of it.

 

“You  _ order  _ me?” Both of their chests heaved, breathing heavily. Styles’ head tilted a bit as he spoke, his expression annoyed and bewildered.

 

Louis nodded, or tried to, at least. The blade pressed under his chin made the task fairly difficult. “If you knew what was good for you, Styles, you’d drop your sword.”

 

“Maybe I’m not asking the right question,” Harry said, ignoring Louis’ threat. “Who do you  _ think  _ you are, coming into a general’s tent and trying to steal from him? And who do you think you are believing that you can order me around. You said you’re not a spy, and I believe that… but you aren’t one of my men, so I’m going to ask you one more time. Who are you?”

 

Louis gulped. This definitely wasn’t going as planned.

 

“I’m Louis Tomlinson, the missing King of Doncaster. It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Styles.” Styles dropped his sword to the ground, taking a step back and kicking it out of reaching distance. Louis sighed in relief, then smiled. “You’re rather handsome up close, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos! Let me know what you’re thinking so far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go sideways. Things don't go according to plan. Then, everything makes a lot more sense to General Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! The story is moving along! Let me know what you think! The next chapter will be a bit longer and a lot better quality, in my opinion, and then the REAL story starts! Haha

_ “I’m Louis Tomlinson, the missing King of Doncaster. It’s a pleasure to meet you, General Styles.” Styles dropped his sword to the ground, taking a step back and kicking it out of reaching distance. Louis sighed in relief, then smiled. “You’re rather handsome up close, aren’t you?” _

 

__________

 

Harry scoffed, sizing up the smaller man in front of him. He took in the baggy commoner clothes, the unkempt hair and beard that he sported, and the unhealthily slim figure he carried himself with. The only thing that made the general question whether or not the thief was lying was his eye color, as it did match the striking blue of the royal family.

 

_ The missing prince _ , he patronized in his mind _. As if I would believe that. _

 

“The missing king, are you? Yes, and I’m the final prophet of God himself,” Harry replied, his gaze mocking yet steady on his intruder.

 

The smaller man’s face heated up, frustration contorting his visible features. Like a child, he stomped his foot. “Do you think that I would lie about something like that? How dare you insult me!”

 

Harry clapped slowly, rolling his eyes and taking a bow. “Excuse me, your highness. Where are my manners? Your performance is quite convincing.”

 

The blue-eyed man tilted his head slightly, his expression clear in disbelief and offense. “Are you sure that you’re the General? You’re acting like a child.”

 

“Prince Tomlinson is dead,” Harry informed, the bemusement dead when he spoke. “And it isn’t so hard to believe that a thief would slander the royal name like that. Your lot have no moral code.”

 

“ _ My _ lot?”

 

“Yes,  _ your _ lot.”

 

Louis pulled at his hair, a brief laugh punching its way out of him as he looked towards the heavens, beyond himself. “I’m speechless,” he squeaked. “My main protector is a complete moron!”

 

“Watch what you say, thief.”

 

“ _ You  _ watch what you say! You are going to be sorry when Paul brings you the news…”

 

“Paul?”

 

“Yes,  _ Paul _ ! I bet you would  _ love _ to know who Paul is right about now, but your head is so far up your own arse that you—”

 

“That’s enough!” Harry boomed, Louis flinching back instinctively at the intensity. The general stormed over to the king and gripped his arm, yanking him out of the tent. “If you really are the future king, then I’m sure that you wouldn’t mind being on display in front of your own people.”

 

“Excuse me?” Louis questioned as Harry herded him through the campsite, breath hitching from exertion already. Three months with minimal movement had really taken its toll, and he was feeling the effects of it now.

 

The general didn’t grace him with an answer but shoved him against a large target stake instead.

 

When Harry let go of his arm, Louis rubbed the sore area. Harry crowded into the king’s space, towering over him with an air of hostility. “If you try to run right now, I will not hesitate to break your legs with my own bare hands.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes.

 

Harry took the rope that lay on the ground and began wrapping it around the wooden stake silently. Louis wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of tying him up without putting him through hell. Harry would only regret this later, anyhow, he figured.

 

“I should have known that being in control was your fetish, General. It makes a lot of sense.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“No, I’m flattered, and honestly, this is quite the scenario. The king, the most powerful man in the kingdom, being tied up by a soldier. It’s a rather sensual predicament, in my opinion.”

 

Harry grunted and shook his head, but he gave no further reply. He fastened the rope one last time, checking over his work before looking at Louis again. “A prince wouldn’t speak the way you do.”

 

“And an honorable General wouldn’t threaten his own king, so I guess we’re both a bit peculiar.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and took a step back, scanning his captor once more.

 

“See something you like, General?”

 

The general scrubbed his hands down his face, taking a deep breath before letting them fall back to his sides. “You are unbelievable. You will stay here until I can figure out what to do with you.”

 

Louis let himself go limp as best he could, slumping back against the stake and letting his legs fall lifelessly against the grass. “What I have to wee?”

 

“Not my problem.”

 

“It will be once you have to apologize for making a royal soil himself and threatening to break his legs in the same hour.”

 

Harry just held his hand up to silence the king, walking away with a long sigh.

 

Louis was left alone for the night.

 

__________

 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but Louis knew when he woke up because the sound of murmuring surrounded him and had him shooting up as best he could.

 

He blinked furiously against the broad sunlight, rubbing his eyes against his shoulder to adjust. When he did, he was met with a mass of people standing a few meters across from him, giving him curious looks and speaking amongst one another.

 

_ Oh, great. _

 

“Can I help any of you? You  _ are _ staring at me, so I can assume you need something, or is there something on my face?”

 

The soldiers quieted down, shifting around uncomfortably.

 

“What did you do?” an unidentifiable voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd. The other voices picked up in agreement.

 

“Yeah, how did you get there?” another one called out.

 

“Well,” Louis started, the cogs turning in his head as he drew out the word.  _ There’s a way out of this. I just have to win them over, outsmart them, maybe _ . “The lovely General Styles put me here as… uh…  a test! Yes! I’m surprised none of you have been able to figure it out yet.” His eyes subtly scanned the area for the aforementioned general, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was only a matter of time, though, so Louis knew that urgency was the key.

 

“A test?” a man in the front questioned, crossing his broad arms and scratching his dark, scraggly beard.

 

“Yes! Yes, a test. Now, I’m not supposed to say anything, but you all seem like a good lot, and frankly, my limbs are getting rather sore, so I’ll tell you.” The soldiers all seemed to lean in, interested.  _ If this is my army, I fear for my own safety _ . “If you all can get me out of these ropes and to the edge of the campgrounds without Styles catching us, you get… you get… as much ale as you want for the next week!”

 

Excitement rumbled in waves amongst the soldiers, some of them getting into small groups to discuss. His eyes darted around the training ground, anxious. However, upon seeing two familiar faces, Louis’ heart leapt in relief.

 

“Niall! Zayn! Over here!”

 

The two were confusedly budging their way through the crowd to see what the commotion was and snapped their heads up when they were addressed. Their faces both fell into similar expressions of mortification, and they rushed over to the restrained royal.

 

“What on earth did you do?” Zayn hissed, feeling around the ropes as he walked around them, searching for the main knot.

 

Niall was laughing.

 

“You still have that beard. I’m guessing Styles caught you?”

 

“That he did, Nialler. That he did, and I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but I think he may actually be deaf.”

 

Niall cackled, and Louis felt the ropes begin to loosen as Zayn worked on untying him. “Really now?” Niall said, still grinning. “Did your advances not work out the way you had hoped?”

 

Louis was royalty, and he shouldn’t stoop down to immaturity. He knew this, but he stuck his tongue out anyways.

 

He almost cried in relief when the ropes fell and pooled at his ankles. He stepped over them and crashed his body into Zayn’s when the soldier rounded the wooden target, knocking the air out of him. “Thank you! The crown will remember your loyalty!” Louis cried jokingly. Zayn snorted, patting the royal’s back before pulling away from the embrace. “We need to get out of here,” he suddenly whispered. Louis walked around his friends and faced the other soldiers. “Gentlemen!” he yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. “The goal is simple: Horan and Malik will be escorting me to the entrance. Your job is to make sure Styles doesn’t find us, in the meantime. Got it?”

 

A chorus of cheers and affirmations chorused through the morning air, and Louis gave grateful bow before running off with Niall and Zayn.

 

“We are going to be used as sparring dummies,” Zayn lamented as they power-walked through the tents. “Styles is going to actually execute us to set an example.”

 

“He won’t,” Louis comforted confidently, “I will see to it that  _ he _ is the one who gets punished, if anyone. He’s the one that got us all into this mess.”

 

Niall and Zayn gave him a pointed look.

 

“Is he now? If I remember correctly,  _ you  _ were the one who decided to steal from his tent when you were supposed to be hiding out. I still have no idea why.”

 

“Styles would have sent me back to Donny immediately, the kingdom would have made a celebration out of it, and Grimshaw’s men would be at my doorstep before we got the chance to strategize.” Louis shook his head, his voice and expression solemn, “it was too risky.”

 

“Grimshaw?” Zayn countered. “I know he… murdered the royal family. We thought you were dead, as well, your highness.”

 

“So I hear…”

 

“What exactly happened that night, if it isn’t too much to ask of you?”

 

Niall stiffened to his left. Louis inhaled deeply through his nose, forcing a smile and patting Zayn on the shoulder. “You will find out soon enough, I’m sure. If not from me, then from the message that is meant to come today.”

 

“What message?” Niall inquired, his attention on both Louis’ words as well as the open areas around them.

 

“General Styles is supposed to receive an urgent message today, and I believe it’s the one regarding this whole affair.”

 

Niall looked at Zayn, his eyes burning with fury. “Prince Grimshaw deserves a date worse than death, Zayn. Not only did he murder Louis’ family, but he…” His gaze fell on the king, who frowned.

 

“He violated me in ways I’d rather not go into at the moment. I was his prisoner, and we will leave it at that for now.”

 

Zayn frowned as well, nodding and rubbing Louis’ back as they walked. “I won’t press,” he said gently.

 

“Hopefully, you won’t need to, after today.”

 

__________

 

General Styles emerged from his tent later than usual, grumbling to himself as he adjusted his coat. He had barely slept the night before, the smart alecky thief on his mind the entire time.

 

Niall had come into his tent at dawn, asking about the morning reps, to which Harry tiredly mumbled for him to take care of it. “Tell then to run laps around the grounds,” he’d said, “then lead some kind of conditioning.”

 

He had never been one to just  _ not _ show up to training. Typically, he was ruthless, determined to lead the greatest army in the five kingdoms. He had a reputation to uphold, but something about the thief had rendered him exhausted.

 

The sun was out, and it was almost noon by now, and the General cursed to himself for allowing himself to be so distracted.

 

As he was making his way to the archery training grounds, two soldiers promptly stepped in front of him.

 

“Good morning, General!” one of them said, too cheery to have been training all morning.

 

Harry raised a single brow. “Good morning?” An awkward silence settled between the trio. “What do you want?”

 

“Oh, um, Captain Horan wanted us to tell you that, uh, training this morning went well!”

 

“Yes, very well!”

 

“We’re knackered, sir!”

 

Harry squinted. They looked far from knackered. “Good,” he replied curtly. “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have—”

 

“Wait!” The first soldier cried, stepping in the general’s way again, cringing at ordering his superior. “Uh, we’ve been working on our hand-to-hand combat, right Ed?”

 

“Right! Could you help us?”

 

Harry scowled, his bottom lip curling in. “Get someone else to do it. I’m  _ busy _ !”

 

“You’re the best fighter we have, General!” Ed reasoned, “your judgement would be the most helpful!”

 

“Get  _ out  _ of my  _ way _ !” Harry shoved the two soldiers aside, barging through them roughly and continuing towards the archery grounds.

 

The two soldiers didn’t follow, but it wasn’t long before he was stopped again.

 

“General Styles!”

 

_ Fucking hell. _

 

“Don’t talk to me. I’m very busy,” he ordered, not stopping his stride, but the footsteps approached him rapidly. He was soon face to face with Calum Hood, the royal attendant from last night.

 

“Of course, General. I just wanted to tell you that you have a message from the royal court coming in today!”

 

Harry’s eye twitched, fists clenching at his sides. “You told me that last night, Hood. Thank you.”

 

The attendant was speaking again before he could move. “Right! Haha, yes, but I was thinking that I could show you where I’ll be receiving the message—”

 

“I don’t care where you get your messages! I just care that they get to me. Now  _ move _ !”

 

The steward bowed quickly, stepping out of the way to let the General through.

 

Harry thought that he was on the brink of screaming, and then he reached the archery grounds.

 

He blinked, his face blank as he stared at the targets.

 

The  _ empty _ targets.

 

There was no thief tied up against the middle post, only a pile of rope surrounding it.

 

“ _ Soldiers _ !” Harry roared, and the echo reached throughout the area. Soon, a terrified mass of men crept forward. He was hot with rage, pacing back and forth in front of the collection of soldiers. “This morning, there was a person restrained to this target. There are hundreds of you here.  _ Where _ is he?”

 

He picked up the rope, clenching it with white knuckles when no one responded.

 

“Oh, so now everyone is shy? You all seemed to chatty earlier this morning! If someone doesn’t come forward, you are  _ all _ getting into a world of trouble.”

 

There was still no response.

 

“Fine,” the General said. “So be it! We are going to stand here all day, until one of you confesses! Get into rows, and if I’ll be watching you. If any of you move a  _ muscle _ , your punishment will not be merciful.”

 

The soldiers all smiled, discreetly patting each other and congratulating each other as if they had just won a game.

 

_ What the bloody hell is going on here _ ?

 

__________

 

“ _ Soldiers! _ ”

 

Louis, Niall, and Zayn all snapped their heads back at the sound.

 

“Looks like Harry saw you were missing,” Niall commented, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second.

 

Louis laughed and began walking again. “If he doesn’t feel foolish now, just wait until he finds out that I really was the king, after all.”

 

“You  _ told _ him?”

 

Louis nodded with an eye roll. “He has a sword to my neck. There really wasn't much else that I could’ve done. He didn’t believe me, though!”

 

Now it was Zayn’s turn to laugh. “I mean, you don’t look very princely at the moment.”

 

Louis thrust his hands up in the air in exasperation. “He wouldn’t even let me explain! He just went all alpha male on me and tied me to a post. He has no sense of respect.”

 

“You tried to steal his razor!” Niall interjected, amusement blatant on his face. “You do realize that your little stunt probably got the whole camp in trouble.”

 

Louis shrugged. “The general’s hot head got everyone in trouble. I tried to reason with him.”

 

The two soldiers shook their heads and continued to walk. The entrance wasn’t too far ahead, visible from where they were.

 

By the time they reached the gates, the sun was at its peak in the sky.

 

“Okay, now what?” Niall asked, leaning against the gate.

 

“Now, we wait for Paul to show up, or whoever is bringing the message.”

 

__________

 

It had been four hours, and the sun was slowly beginning to dip towards the horizon. The soldiers had not moved, though their fatigue and soreness was becoming evident, if their groans were anything to go by.

 

Finally, a voice came from the front row.

 

“General, they’ve surely made it by now. Is the test over?”

 

All of the soldiers, including the General, looked at the man in alarm.

 

Harry stormed over to the soldier. “I’m sorry?” The soldier shifted his weight briefly, eyeing the men around him, who murmured their agreement. “What  _ test _ , soldier?”

 

A wave of indiscernible words filled the air, and the spoken soldier confusedly replied, “the stealth test, sir? The one you gave us this morning.”

 

Harry looked over the man’s head at the rest of his men, who all nodded nervously. “I didn’t give out any stealth test.” He pulled the soldier forward. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Is this another test, sir?”

 

“No, this is not another bloody test! If you know something, I want answers  _ now _ !” The soldier flinched slightly but stood his ground

 

The man’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke again. “Well, sir, we came back from running laps this morning…”

 

__________

 

“ _You let him_ _go?! Are you all fucking idiots?!_ ”

 

By the time the story was over, the General was screaming, the veins in his neck prominent and his face red with anger. The soldiers all stood with their heads facing the ground.

 

“Sheeran! Get over here!” The red-headed soldier ran over to the General’s side, his eyes wide and his limbs quaking from soreness. “You watch the rest of this  _ stupid _ lot. You’re all doing reps of your morning routine until I get back. If I come back and you’re all slacking around, you’ll do it until sundown! If I come back with no thief, you’ll do it until morning! Do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

His face was burning with anger and embarrassment as he stormed off towards the entry gates.

 

_ I’m going to kill him _ .

 

__________

 

Meanwhile, Louis had far more pressing matters to attend to.

 

“Paul!” The royal greeted with childlike excitement, running towards the large man with teary eyes and a blinding grin. The large man smiled back, wrapping his arms around the king and lifting him off the ground.

 

“How are ya, kid?” he asked, setting Louis down.

 

“You wouldn’t believe what has happened so far!”

 

Paul’s attention was no longer on Louis but just over his head. Louis cut himself off to look behind him, Niall and Zayn staring on at the interaction uncomfortably.

 

“Oh, Paul, it’s okay! This is Zayn and Niall,” he gestured to them respectively. “They’re my friends! They kept me hidden from General Styles for as long as they could. Also, they know everything.”

 

Paul’s eyes shifted to the smaller man, bewildered. “You told them? Your highness, I specifically said--”

 

“Well, they didn’t send me back, did they? They didn’t expose me. I did, to them and the General.”

 

“What?”

 

“He doesn’t believe me,” Louis muttered, clicking his tongue, “so I suppose it doesn’t matter that I told Styles, either way. No need to give me that look.”

 

Paul shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “God help us all when you take the throne.” Louis was almost offended, but when he saw the smile peeking through his protector’s scruff, he laughed lightly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologized. “If I’ve realized nothing else about myself during my time here so far, I’ve realized that I’m horrible at keeping his mouth shut.”

 

“That is old news, your highness.”

 

“Oi!”

 

They duo laughed once more, and Louis turned around to face Niall and Zayn, beckoning them to come closer. The two soldiers approached, Niall with awe and Zayn with a subtler version of it.

 

“Niall, Zayn, this is Paul. He’s the one who helped me escape Grimshaw’s castle.”

 

“It’s an honor,” Niall said, bowing slightly. Zayn followed suit.

 

“Likewise!” Paul boomed, shaking both of their hands with a jovial air. “I’m sorry you had to take care of this one for the time being.”

 

Louis scoffed, and the other three laughed at his indignation. Louis noted the satchel attached to the saddle of Paul’s horse. “Does that have the letter in it?” he asked offhandedly. Paul walked over to the horse, taking the aforementioned letter out of his satchel and presenting it.

 

“Yes. Do you know where I might be able to find General Styles?” he asked, mainly to Niall and Zayn.

 

“Well, he could be anywhere by now. He’s been searching for Louis all day.”

 

Paul gave Louis an exasperated look, but before he could speak, Louis patted his arm. “Trust me, it’s really a funny story! General Styles can it explain it to you once he  _ apologizes _ for harassing me.”

 

Paul stiffened, his expression darkening. “Did he hurt you?”

 

Niall chuckled. “Hardly. Louis took it upon himself to try and steal the General’s shaving razor, but he got caught.” The stablehand sighed heavily. Louis was quick to defend himself, explaining as much of the ordeal as he could, but Paul just waved his hands, clearly not wanting to know anything more about the situation.

 

“Paul, can’t I reprimand him somehow? He’s a right prick for doing that to me!”

 

“Princes don’t speak the way you do, I swear.”

 

“So they tell me,” Louis grumbled, accepting the defeat in this argument.

 

The group began to walk back towards the General’s tent, but it seemed that they didn’t need to travel far. In the near distance, Harry was marching towards them, nothing short of outrage on his face. The foursome stopped in their tracks, different expressions crossing all of their faces: Paul was indifferent, Louis rolled his eyes, Niall looked like a cheeky child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and Zayn looked about ready to fall on his own sword.

 

When Styles reached them, he stopped about three meters away.

 

“I hope you’re here to apologize,” Louis sassed, crossing his arms with a smirk. He heard the trio behind him sigh.

 

Harry’s face contorted. His eyes zoned in on the other three men accompanying Louis. “What is going  _ on _ here? Who are you?” he asked Paul pointedly, who stepped forward with an intimidating air about him that had the general’s shoulders easing a bit in their tension.

 

“My name is Paul. I have a letter for you from the Royal Advising Council.”

 

Harry’s eyes darted over to Louis for a moment before taking the letter from Paul. He opened the envelope in silence, all eyes on him as he read through the note.

 

As Harry’s face slowly went from terrifying to hilarious, Louis’ smugness grew.

 

The general swallowed thickly, letting his arm fall to his side, the letter still in hand. His eyes were wide, his cheeks red with embarrassment, and Louis was just waiting for the satisfaction to roll in. The future king’s face was eminating in a nonverbal “I told you so.”

 

That’s when Harry took a knee, and Louis became uncomfortable. Louis had been bowed to his entire life, but the situation gave Louis secondhand embarrassment that he wasn’t expecting.

 

“Get up, please. It’s okay.”

 

“I’m sorry, your highness.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I told you so, you’re an imbecile, I was right, you were wrong. We have established that. Now, please stand up.”

 

Harry did as he was told, fixing his hair and posture. Niall was laughing hysterically, and Zayn was trying his best to hide his amusement by looking away. Harry gave them pointed looks.

 

“General Styles,” Louis addressed, the man’s green eyes glued to him. “Now that you’re aware of our situation, you know that I will be at this camp for the time being.” Harry nodded. “I need a place to sleep.” Harry nodded again, albeit unsurely this time. “I request your bed. As punishment for harassing me and tying me to a pole all night, you can sleep on the floor of your own tent.”

 

“Louis--”

 

“Your highness, you--”

 

Harry looked like he wanted to protest, but he just nodded with pursed lips. “Of course, your highness,” he affirmed with gritted teeth.

 

Louis beamed. “Also, I demand to use your razor, since you so graciously interrupted me earlier.”

 

“You broke into my tent and--”

 

Paul stepped forward, and Harry cut himself off.

 

“Right… of course, your highness.”

 

Louis’ grin threatened to split his face in two. He sauntered up to the General, bluntly placing a kiss on the man’s cheek. “I think this is going to be fun, Styles! Perk up!”

 

He walked off towards the tents, and he could feel Harry’s eyes on his back, Niall’s laughter in his ears, and Paul and Zayn’s collective sigh.

 

__________

 

As Louis sat across from the mirror in Styles’ tent, shaving away the facial hair that had grown, he decided that he could heal in this place. Shaving off the remnants of what he had been through for the past few months seemed like the first step towards his inner process.

 

He felt bad for acting like a brat, he did, but it was his coping mechanism. Making himself laugh had always been Louis’ way of distracting himself, of getting over things. This would take a lot more than a good shave and good laugh, however, Louis mused. He had allowed himself to cry for the first time only a few days ago. There was a lot more healing to be done.

 

He used a wet rag to wipe off the remaining cream and gave himself a weak smile when he saw a more familiar reflection. Styles entered the tent at the same moment, and Louis stood up to greet him.

 

“Good evening, Styles.” Harry stared at the king, blinking a few times. “See? I told you I was the missing king. You just had to let me shave first.”

 

Harry nodded, clearing his throat and coming out of whatever reverie he had found himself in. “Right. I’m sorry for not believing you before.”

 

Louis’ expression softened as he dropped the rag on the ground, wiping a hand on his pants. “I understand. I guess I should apologize, too. I shouldn’t have snuck in here in the first place. Also, I know I can be rather brash sometimes. I think we should start over.”

 

Harry nodded, his mouth almost twitching into a smile as Louis stepped closer and held his hand out. Harry clutched the king’s hand in his own, and they shook.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry Styles. You’re very handsome up close.”

 

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The pleasure’s all mine, your highness, sexual harassment aside.”

 

The two laughed quietly, releasing their hands. Louis’ face heated up with a coy smile that was returned by Harry’s own polite one.

 

Maybe, here, they could start on the right foot, and maybe staying with General Styles could help Louis heal. Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS AND KUDOS


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis have a breakthrough in their tense relationship, even if the circumstances aren’t ideal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello!
> 
> The story is developing! If you haven’t already, go check out my other stories, as I have begun to update those again as well. I’m hoping to have all of my current stories done by the end of May! Hooray!
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS

Harry had always considered himself a patient man. He had to be, given his occupation and the circumstances he often found himself in because of it. He has had to train thousands of common men to be warriors, had to kill hundreds for the sake of his country, strategize for victory. All of these things take patience, and Harry felt that he could handle just about anything with the patience of a saint.

 

Prince Tomlinson, however, was proving to be another task entirely. By the end of the week, Harry had known him in person for all of six days, and he was already on his last legs with dealing with the royal.

 

Harry had learned a handful of things about the soon-to-be-king in the few days that he’d known him.

 

First and foremost, Louis was the most stubborn person he had ever met. Harry actually thought that this was a fairly good quality in a ruler. Not so much for daily conversation, though.

 

Secondly, Louis was fond of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He would follow Harry around like a duckling with its mother, asking an endless stream of questions that Harry didn’t care to or didn’t have to answer. “Have you ever had to go undercover?” “How old were you when you learned how to fight?” “How does this work?”

 

“ _ Are you a virgin, General? _ ”

 

Again, very unnecessary and undesirable questions to come out of a prince’s mouth.

 

Lastly, Harry had learned that Louis— despite his annoying characteristics— was very charming, when he wanted to be, and very beautiful. He had concluded that, if Louis were to ever learn how to control that mouth of his, he would be rather irresistible.

 

Unfortunately, it seemed that Louis’ mouth was his favorite part of himself, as he used it more than anything else.

 

For instance, Harry was currently sitting around the tabletop diorama with his constituents and Paul, planning out the invasion of the Grimshaw castle, and Louis was literally peering over his shoulder, interrupting as much as he could.

 

“The east wing is the least guarded, housing the servants’ quarters, the kitchen, and a practically vacant corridor. If we can enter through there, we should be able to reach the throne room without much trouble,” Paul explained, moving three blocks towards the mentioned side of the castle’s model. “That can be our team, General.”

 

Harry nodded, examining the placement of Grimshaw’s guards closely. “What about the Southern entrance, near the gardens you escaped from?”

 

“Come on, General!” Louis groaned, and Harry could feel the eye roll from over his shoulder. “Like you said, that’s where we escaped from. If there’s going to be guards anywhere, it’s there and the main entrance!”

 

“Do you mind?” Harry huffed, turning to face the prince, who reacted with an apathetic expression. “Last time I checked, you weren’t a part of this meeting.”

 

The two glared at one another, tension hanging in the air between them. Louis opened his mouth to bite back, but another voice cut them off and had them turning their heads towards the source. “His majesty actually makes a good point, sir.” Captain Irwin chimed in, eyes bouncing back and forth between the pair.

 

Hart stared back at the captain for a moment before sighing and rubbing his forehead in exhaustion.

 

“Oh, thank you, Louis! You’re so helpful!” Louis drawled, dropping his voice in a poor impersonation if the General. “What would I ever do without you—?”

 

“Get through this meeting, probably,” Harry muttered, earning a surprised bout of laughter from the prince.

 

Louis squeezed Harry’s shoulder before stepping back. “He has a sense of humor, after all! Very sexy, General. I’d love to hear more, but Paul looks like he might be ill, so I’ll make my leave.” Harry gave a cursory glance at Paul, who was indeed paling and shaking his head in dismay.

 

Harry’s attention fell back on Louis as the prince made his exit from the tent, his confident strides carrying him away from the general’s reach. Having Louis out of his reach put a heavy feeling in his stomach that he reasoned was due to his distrust of the smaller man.

 

His eyes fell just below the curve of the prince’s lower back as he stepped out of the tent, eyebrows raising fractionally.

 

_ At least he isn’t hard to look at _ , Harry mused fleetingly.  _ It’s unfortunate how attractive he is. _

 

Harry snapped back to attention at the sound of Paul clearing his throat and the chorus of snickers around the table. Harry furrowed his brows. “Am I missing something?”

 

Paul smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “His majesty, apparently,” the man joked, earning another round of stifled laughter from the other men in the tent.

 

Harry’s face heated up, his expression defensive. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can we get on with this, please, before  _ his majesty _ burns my camp to the ground?”

 

The men at the table mumbled half-intelligible affirmations, their amusement still visible.

 

This mission was going to be the death of him, if Louis didn’t kill him first.

 

__________

  
  


By the time the meeting had finished, the sun had long ago fallen into the horizon, and Harry set out to find the source of the racket he was hearing. It didn’t take him too long, as the light of a fire burned close to the dining area, and the sound of a familiar voice and laughter accompanied it. He turned the corner of one of the tents and was met with quite a sight.

 

Just as Harry had suspected, and much to his despair, the prince was winning his men over.

 

A rather large group of soldiers sat around a bolstering campfire with benches pulled in a wide circle around it. At the head of it all stood Louis, leading a chorus of some kind.

 

“And it’s no, nay, never!”

 

_ Clap, clap, clap, clap _

 

“No, nay, never, no more—”

 

The soldiers yelled out the lyrics at the top of their lungs, cheeks red with delight and drunken stupor. They hung off of one another and swayed, some standing, some still sat down. Louis was in the middle of Niall, Zayn, and Liam, arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

  
  


“—will I play the wild rover No, never, no more!”

 

The foursome that headed the ordeal held last note as the rest of the crowd of men cheered and hollered their praises. Harry stayed hidden behind the tent, peeking in at the moment.

 

Niall planted a dramatic kiss on Louis’ cheek that the prince laughed at and playfully shoved the Irishman away. They disbanded their arms but didn’t move from where they were, chatting on wobbly legs.

 

Liam handed the prince a pint of ale, saying something to him with a hearty laugh that the group reciprocated. Louis shrugged and took the ale, downing it. When he finished, he grimaced at the pint, coughing and handing it back to its owner, who laughed once again.

 

Louis stepped down from the bench and out of Harry’s view, and the General leaned up to try and track him down through the cluster of inebriated soldiers. At the last second, the prince emerged from them, walking directly towards him, and the prince ducked back out of sight.

 

“Oi! Where are you going, Lou?” Niall’s voice shouted out.

 

“I’m just getting some air!” Louis called back, his voice loud and distinct as he passed Harry without noticing. The general held his breath until the prince was a good distance away.

 

He poked his head out from behind the next tent, watching the prince stumble further into the camp, his steps inconsistent and unbalanced.

 

So, he was drunk.

 

Harry looked back at the campfire, taking in the jovial scene that rarely made an appearance at the camps, and he realized something else about Louis. Despite being a thorn in his side, the prince also seemed to drop a cultivate a feeling of good will wherever he went. He recalled the week prior to Louis’ unexpected arrival, specifically the rain that had fallen over the training camp. At the time, he had been frustrated with falling behind schedule, sitting and moping around his tent with little to do. But, when the sun came back out, the grass was greener, the air was cooler, and his men were well-rested.

 

Harry thought Louis was like the rain, if the rain could ever talk to men.

 

He was strong, stronger than Harry had given him credit for since he’d met him. To have gone through what he had gone through (though, he was still in the dark about the details of it all) and still smile and put smiles on other people’s faces takes strength. 

 

_ He will make a good king _ , Harry thought soundly.

 

He turned back around, and the prince’s slim figure was smaller now with the growing distance between them. He contemplated staying behind, but his curiosity got the better of him.

 

He groaned.  _ Fuck it _ .

 

Harry stood up fully and followed Louis’ retreating form.

 

He followed Louis for a quiet while, chuckling to himself when the prince would stumble and hiss out profanities to no one in particular. Eventually, Louis stopped in front of Harry’s tent, just looking at it.

 

Harry watched on, intrigued as the prince positioned himself in front of the tent’s entrance, leaning his ear against it and listening for something inside, it appeared. When he obviously heard nothing, Louis sighed and stepped inside, closing the curtain behind him. Harry silently walked over to the tent as well and reached out to enter but flinched at the sound of sobbing.

 

Eyes wide and limbs frozen, Harry listened to the prince cry on the other side of the canvas wall. He let his hand drop to his side and a pained expression flooded his features. Instinctually, he wanted to step inside and comfort the prince, but…

 

_ It isn’t any of my business _ .

 

The two sides of himself argued over the shaky breaths in front of him, the polite side of him telling him to step away and the other telling him to have a heart.

 

For the first time in years, Harry wasn’t sure what to do, and he was getting impatient with himself.

 

“General!” Harry blanched at the unexpected voice, and immediately afterwards, he heard the prince whispering curses and shuffling around.

 

He turned to face Liam, who jogged towards him smiling, but when he saw the general’s troubled frown, he slowed. “What is it?”

 

“Oh, we had all set up a big fire and were wondering if you’d like to join. Paul and Captain Irwin are there, so we figured we should ask you, too.” Liam looked skittish now, scuffing his boot into the dirt subtly, but Harry took notice.

 

He gave Liam an apologetic smile. “Tell everyone thank you, but I think I’ll be turning in. I’m knackered.”

 

Liam returned the smile with his own polite one. “Of course, sir. Sleep well!”

 

“Good night, Liam.” Liam jogged around the corner, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once more.

 

A soft thud came from inside the tent.

 

Well, almost alone.

 

Louis knew he was outside now, so with little hesitation, he pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.

 

Louis was sitting on Harry’s bed when his eyes found him, and he looked smaller than usual. He had his knees against his chest and a book laid out on the blanket in front of him. In any other situation, Harry would have considered the sight sweet, but the redness around the prince’s blue eyes suggested otherwise.

 

“Hello,” Louis croaked, then cleared his throat. “Sorry for being on your bed. I just wanted to be somewhere quiet.”

 

Harry nodded, closing the curtain behind him and smiling. “You did commandeer it when you showed up, so no need to apologize, I guess.”

 

He had expected some kind of mockery in response, but Louis just cringed and closed the book, sitting more openly. “Right, I’m sorry about that. You can have it back, if you want. I was just being a prat, at the time.”

 

Harry frowned with each word that came out of Louis’ lips. It’s like he wasn’t talking to the same person. “Louis,” he said, and the prince’s head snapped up, “that is ridiculous thing to say.”

 

Louis blinked, then smiled in a way that had Harry’s chest grow heavy again. The smile wasn’t teasing or falsely polite. The prince’s blue eyes were soft and pleased, his lips closed but turned up at the corners as though it was unintentional to be smiling at all. Louis smiled as though he was fond of him, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

 

He found himself smiling back. “What?” he asked when Louis didn’t say anything for a while.

 

Louis shook his head and turned his smile down towards his lap. Harry had the urge to take the prince’s face into his hands to have the smile directed at him once more but stamped it down. “You’ve never called me by my name before, that’s all,” Louis explained with a shrug.

 

Harry blinked. “I guess I haven’t, but you’re upse—… well, you’re drunk, so I guess it slipped my mind.”

 

Louis’ eyes widened and he giggled like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “You can tell? Niall got me drinking! I’ve never been drunk before, so I didn’t realize how drunk I could get. My head is absolutely spinning, General.” Louis scrambled to his feet for no reason other than to show Harry that he couldn’t properly stand. The prince found the whole ordeal hysterical, but Harry constantly kept a hand hovering around him so he didn’t fall.

 

“Harry,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“If I can call you Louis, then it’s only right for you to call me Harry, right?”

 

Louis’ smile grew, and Harry felt warm for reasons he wasn’t quite sure about, for reasons he didn’t want to be sure about.

 

_ Don’t be ridiculous _ , he chided.

 

Then, Louis got that mischievous smirk on his face that Harry knew all too well.

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean what?” Louis asked, his voice a bit higher than usual.

 

“That look. What is that face for?”

 

“Nothing!” Louis laughed. “I’m very drunk, Harry.”

 

Harry tried to fight his own smile. “I can see that.”

 

“Whatever will happen if I fall? The world is spinning, my dear. Whoever will catch me?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “Come on, now. Louis, you— oh no.”

 

Before Harry could finish, Louis giggled and made a show of falling towards the General, whistling on his way down and wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle with ease.

 

“You’re a menace,” Harry scolded, but even he could tell it wasn’t genuine.

 

“Perhaps,” Louis agreed. “It gets me into all sorts of trouble.”

 

“I see that.” Harry set Louis up straight, but neither of them moved more than that. As he looked down at Louis, he could see the flush in his cheeks, the striking blue of his irises, but also the remnants of tears that wet his eyelashes. Harry frowned, “Louis,”

 

“Harry.”

 

Harry took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the prince ever so slightly. “You’re going to be here for a while. If you ever… if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to… I don’t know. I know that you have people you can talk to, but just know that I’m one of them, alright?”

 

Louis stilled in Harry’s arms, blue eyes searching green for something unidentifiable. After a moment, he nodded. “Thank you. You’re a kind person, Harry.”

 

The general frowned. “I don’t know about that. You don’t even know me.”

 

Louis smiled, that same one that made Harry’s heart twist painfully. “That’s true, but only a good person would be able to take my shit the way you do, with the patience you do.”

 

Harry laughed tiredly. “Trust me, it’s wearing thin.” Louis hid his laugh by biting his lip, and Harry’s eyes tracked the motion. Before he could think too much about it, he let go of the smaller man. “You should get some sleep, your highness. We both have a long day, tomorrow.”

 

Louis hummed, taking a step back. He watched as Harry pulled out the extra linens he’d been sleeping on, preparing his makeshift bed on the ground. The prince sat on the side of the bed, a guilty expression etched into the lines of his face.

 

His eyes remained on Harry’s back as he asked, “Isn’t it uncomfortable on the floor?”

 

The general stilled for a fraction of a second before continuing his motions. “It’s fine, your grace.”

 

“Even when I was a prisoner, I slept on a bed. You’re the one housing me. It doesn’t seem right.”

 

“Louis, I promise that it’s okay.”

 

“Would you come into bed with me?”

 

This time, Harry turned his torso around, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry?”

 

“I’ll be honest. I’m drunk, I’m sad, and I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Would you please come into bed with me?”

 

Harry swallowed, willing away the usual implications of sharing a bed with someone. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 

“Please, Harry,” Louis pleaded, his voice raspy and small. He looked vulnerable, and Harry— alongside from his own unethical desires— couldn’t bring himself to deny the prince.

 

Harry nodded, standing from his kneeled position, and Louis graced him with a sheepish smile, scooting to the further side of the bed. Harry took a seat on the edge, taking off his boots and belt before laying on his back.

 

He chanced a look over at the prince, who was laying down as well, facing him. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady, but the corners of his lips were turned up, and Harry found himself mirroring it.

 

When Harry blew out the flame of the lantern, they laid silently in the dark, the sounds of their breaths and the natural world around them all to be heard. Harry stared up at the pitch blackness above him, wondering what he was going to do with this newfound complexity in his life.

 

He flinched when he felt Louis roll into his side, the prince’s face settling on his ribs. Tentatively, Harry wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s frame, just letting it rest there.

 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he felt for the prince, nor did it matter, in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make Grimshaw pay for what he did, whatever it was. That was another thing: he wasn’t even sure of Louis’ whole story, if that's why he was crying. He didn’t know anything about the prince, what he valued, what he liked and loathed. He didn’t even know Louis’ middle name.

 

As Louis’ body curled into his, Harry decided that these were all problems for his future self. For now, he could take care of Louis, however he could, even if he wasn’t sure why he felt a need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY OTHER STORIES AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK
> 
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	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fairly new face comes into the picture, and Louis makes a dangerous decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting ! I hope you enjoy this chapter ! Things are only getting started, my lovelies ! Just hold on .
> 
> Comments and kudos!

They didn’t talk about it, and the reasoning of this was one part embarrassment and one part a massive headache, both on the prince’s part.

 

When Louis awoke the next morning, the General had already left his tent, and the sun was a filtering sandy light through the canvas walls. For the first time since his escape from Grimshaw castle, he dreaded the sunlight.

 

His head was pounding, and his tongue felt like it was made of paper. The prince sat up, running a hand through his hair and yawned before stretching out his limbs. Squinting to avoid any sort of light that he could, Louis padded over to the mirror to give himself a once over.

 

He cringed at his ragged appearance. Without a proper bath or change of clothes in weeks, Louis looked closer to a beggar than a prince.

 

At least he was clean-shaven, now. That much he was thankful for.

 

His eyes fell on the General’s chest of clothes next to the mirror, and he hummed as he stepped in front of it, lifting the lid gently. His eyebrows raised as he took in the materials inside: fine silks and leather alongside what Louis assumed to be his usual training wear. He began digging through the clothes, looking for something that might be able to fit him.

 

Eventually, he found a deep blue tunic and black pants, which would have to do. His prize, however, was a belt that had a dagger’s holster attached to it.

 

He put on his boots excitedly with the rest of the ensemble and grinned at his reflection this time. He fancied himself a proper soldier in clothes like these. It wasn’t ornate by any royal standard, but it was fun for the him to pretend to be something other than what he was.

 

Smile still on his face, he avidly searched for a dagger to keep with him. Opening drawers, looking through bags, and moving pieces of furniture, he practically turned the tent upside down before finding one under the General’s mattress.

 

Louis gulped. “Happy to know that was by my neck as I slept, Styles.” He shook his head and picked up the weapon, raising and lowering it in his hands. His motions slowed, his thoughts traveling further and further from reason as he observed the sharp metal in his hands.

 

_ Grimshaw brought me to this dagger _ .

 

Louis’ jaw clenched, and his grip tightened on the cool handle of the blade.

 

His mind raced with all of what had happened to him, and every time he thought of the reasons why, Prince Grimshaw’s cruel eyes burned through it all. Louis thought of all of the possible blame he could put on the other man, all of the thoughts of “if Grimshaw hadn’t done this, then…” and the “Grimshaw did this to me, so…” repeated themselves like a mantra.

 

All of this blame and all of this anger and all of this unresolved trauma evidently manifested itself in the form of one thought:  _ I’m going to kill him. _

 

Louis aggressively shoved the knife into the holster and stepped out of the tent, following the sound of Harry’s voice hollering orders to his men.

 

His search found him at the sparring ring where two soldiers were currently rolling around on the ground, their swords tossed carelessly in the dirt.

 

Louis’ eyes found the General, who had a hand clamped over his face in exasperation. The prince chuckled to himself as he approached the grounds.

 

“What do you two think this is, a mud fight? Get up, and get the next two out here!”

 

The two soldiers immediately parted and scrambled for their weapons, dusting themselves off. Two new soldiers entered as the former exited, counting off for their first round. The soldiers around laughed lightheartedly, and Louis approached Zayn and Liam when he found them on the sidelines.

 

“My bet goes to the tall blonde,” Louis said in greeting, amusement flickering in his eyes when both soldiers jumped in surprise.

 

They smiled when they saw him. “Hemmings?” Liam laughed, a humored but doubtful look on his face. “He’s new, only been using a sword for a few months now. It’s unlikely.”

 

Zayn nodded, “yeah. He’s guaranteed to lose. You see the lad he’s fighting against?” Zayn pointed towards the pair, and Louis leaned closer, following Zayn’s gesture and nodding. “That’s Captain Irwin, one of the finest swordsmen you’ll ever meet!”

 

Louis’ smile fell into a contemplative gaze, fixated on the captain. The man was well-built but rather short. True to Zayn’s word, however, he seemed effortless with his weapon, fluid and practiced. “Why would they put him against Hemmings, then?” Louis asked distractedly. “That hardly seems fair.”

 

Liam leaned against the edge of the sparring ring, looking at Louis across from Zayn. “When you’re on the battlefield, you’re not going to be magically matched up with someone lesser than or of your own skill level. Styles believes we should all expect to fight the best of the enemy’s army, so we learn from the best our own.”

 

Louis nodded slowly, eyes still locked on Captain Irwin, who laughed and helped Hemmings from where he had just knocked him down. He recognized him from Harry’s meeting the day before, but Louis obviously didn’t pay him much mind at the time.

 

“Has he ever killed anyone?” Louis asked, and both of the soldiers’ heads whipped towards the question.

 

Liam answered slowly, “I mean, he’s been at war before.”

 

“Yes, but I mean to ask has he ever killed somebody, apart from the battlefield?”

 

Both of the men next to him blinked. Zayn answered this time, slower than Liam, even. “Before he was captain, he worked as a spy for the your family. I’m not sure assassin work was roped into that, though.” Louis hummed again. “Why do you ask?” Zayn asked, unable to contain his curiosity, but the prince simply smiled and nodded in thanks before heading off.

 

“I was just curious, Malik. No worries.”

 

Liam and Zayn exchanged a look behind the prince’s retreating form, confusion and concern evident in their eyes.

 

Louis had known his way around a sword since he was a child, but he had never had to put it to practical use. He would go as far as to say that he was quite talented, quick and concise through his training, but killing a man was a different story.

 

_ I’m going to kill him _ , Louis repeated in his head,  _ but I can’t just waltz into Grimshaw’s castle and raise hell. _ Louis rolled his eyes as he approached the General.  _ It’s not like Styles would let me if I asked, anyhow. This needs to be covert _ .

 

When Louis finally reached Harry, his cheeks had begun to flare red with memories of the night before, but he stamped down his embarrassment before tapping the General on the shoulder. “Good afternoon, General,” he greeted politely, coming to stand next to Harry, who nodded at the prince.

 

“I see you raided my wardrobe,” he said, side-eyeing the prince and smirking.

 

Louis beamed mischievously. “That I did! If I’m going to be keeping a low profile, I should at least look the part. I think I look quite good, myself.” To emphasize his point, the prince hoisted one of his legs on the fence of the sparring ring and puffed out his chest, his face flooded with faux arrogance.

 

Harry snorted and shook his head. His eyes lingered on the prince before turning back to the match. “You do look quite good.”

 

Louis gasped, “did you compliment me? I can’t believe it!”

 

Harry’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but he quickly schooled his expression and replaced it with a teasing smile of his own. “You’re royalty. I’m obligated to compliment you, even if you look half-dead.”

 

“Oh, so you’re lying to royalty then?”

 

“I never said that either.”

 

Louis huffed, biting his bottom lip and facing the match. He leaned his arms against the fence and cleared his throat. “How well do you know Captain Irwin?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

 

Harry raised a brow, but he didn’t turn away from the fight. “Irwin? We’ve been running the same circles for about two years now. Good man, great fighter,” the general answered. Captain Irwin took off his shirt, patting down his chest with it before tossing it aside. Harry gauged Louis’ reaction out of his peripherals, his body heating up when the prince’s eyes widened. He cleared his throat, “why? Have you been talking with him?”

 

Louis smiled, surprised and amused. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, General Styles.”

 

“Hardly!” Harry retorted quickly and a bit too loudly. A few soldiers turned their direction. Harry gave them all pointed looks and adjusted his armor, though he didn’t need to. “Hardly,” he repeated.

 

Louis just cooed and patted Harry’s soldier. “It’s okay if you are, Styles. You may tend to forget sometimes, but you’re only human, and I  _ am _ rather charming.”

 

“Putting you and charming next to each other is an oxymoron.”

 

Louis frowned, putting a hand to his chest. “Why do the people we love have to be the ones that hurt us the most?”

 

Harry scoffed, “it isn’t love, your highness. If that was my vice, I would be a much weaker man. My downfall has always been my pride, as it is yours.”

 

Louis stood fully at that, leaning over the fence to catch Harry’s eye. Blue met green with an offended flame of intensity, but the prince’s voice was cold as he asked, “Who are you to call me prideful, and who are you say it’s my downfall?”

 

Harry sighed, finally turning away from the fight. “You want revenge against Grimshaw, right?” Harry whispered, mindful of the nosy soldiers nearby. The royal nodded slowly. “Right. What does vengeance stem from?” Louis opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him off by raising a hand. “Pride. In the end, vengeance only stems from pride. It isn’t always a bad thing.”

 

“What about love?” Louis countered, crossing his arms over the fence.

 

“Love is pride of the heart, your highness. Nothing more.”

 

Silence sat between the pair after that. Although, neither of them truly felt the conversation was finished. “So, Captain Irwin used to be a spy for the royal family, I hear,” Louis commented after a pregnant pause.

 

“He was,” Harry replied simply enough, though his brows pinched closer together, a subtle hint of disconcertion in his face.

 

“That must have been dangerous,” the prince said, his voice sympathetic. “He worked for my family under such terrifying conditions, and I have never so much as heard his name.” Louis turned his head to Harry then, smiling tightly. “I’d like to thank him personally. Do you know where he is staying on the grounds?”

 

Louis watched the General’s nose twitch, but his expression remained cool otherwise. Harry cleared his throat. “I do. I don’t see why you can’t just thank him here, once he’s done with training, though,” he muttered, his annoyance beginning to shine through his calm exterior.

 

Louis exhaled sharply through his nose and rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business who I choose to see and how I go about seeing them.”

 

“ _ Because _ , your highness, I’m the one looking after you. Your business  _ is  _ my business. More importantly, the business in which you keep your identity hidden. You can throw tantrums and stomp your foot like a child all you want, but that’s just the way it is.”

 

“I’m not a child!”

 

“You could have fooled me.”

 

Both men felt their faces heat up and their blood begin to boil. Louis acted first, standing up fully and turning his whole body towards the General’s profile. “Does this fit your description of me well enough, Styles?” Louis spat, promptly stomping on the toe of the General’s boot, causing him to shout in pain.

 

Before the General could retaliate or comment, Louis budged his way through the wide-eyed soldiers who had watched the scene unfold.

 

__________

  
  


“I’m not sure assaulting your General was the wisest move, your highness,” Liam said sternly, but Louis could see the soldier fighting an amused chuckle. “He  _ is _ only doing his job.”

 

Louis had found Liam soon after the sun had set, wrapping up a few minor cuts Zayn had received in sparring earlier in the day. The trio sat in one of the medical tents, and Louis utilized the otherwise empty space to vent to his friends, much to their amusement.

 

The prince sniffed indignantly, crossing one leg over the other on the cot he occupied. “Oh? Does his job require him to insult and harass me whenever he pleases? I guess I missed that part of the description.”

 

Zayn shook his head, hissing around a smile when Liam tugged the bandage a bit too tightly. “Prince Louis,” he said lightly, “I think you and the general are more alike than you seem to think. If the way he speaks bothers you, it’s probably just because he’s matching your energy. Not many people have the stones to do that with a royal. I’ll admit, maybe he can be a bit harsh, but he isn’t a monster.”

 

“We are nothing alike,” Louis quipped, the rest of Zayn’s words going in one ear and out the other, apparently.

 

Zayn sighed but said nothing more. Liam changed the topic to something more casual, and the General was forgotten for the time being.

 

That was, until a familiar face entered the tent.

 

“Good evening, lads!” Captain Irwin chirped as he stepped further in, sending a general wave to the soldiers, who mimicked the action. He turned to Louis and gave a slight bow, “your highness.”

 

“Good evening,” Louis greeted, his stomach turning anxiously. Liam and Zayn’s eyes met each other quickly in alarm, but Louis patted Liam’s shoulder. “It’s okay, lads. He knows that you know.” At his words, their shoulders relaxed, and they continued their work.

 

Louis followed the captain further into the tent to another cot. He eyed the man curiously as he rummaged through a safety kit. “Captain, I hear that you were once a spy for the royal family.”

 

Irwin paused his motions, picking up a small bottle before turning around again. His smile was polite and couldn’t be described as anything other than genuine when he replied, “yes, sir. It was an honor serving you.”

 

“Thank you,” Louis said. “Although, I can imagine it wasn’t always an easy job. I wanted to thank you personally for your service.” Louis kept to his script, kept his expression schooled and his voice kind.

 

Captain Irwin seemed baffled by the praise. “Oh. Yes, thank  _ you _ … for your… thank you.” Irwin cringed at his own response, a nervous laugh coming out from around his smile. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Like I said, it’s an honor to serve the crown. I appreciate the praise, but no thanks is required, your highness.”

 

“Nonsense!” Louis protested. “You did good by me and, of course, my family. However, I do have a request of you,” he said, bringing his voice down to a hushed tone. Captain Irwin leaned closer to the prince to try to listen. “Would you take a walk with me?” Louis asked, and the captain’s cheeks flushed as he nodded. “Wonderful,” the prince whispered and took Irwin’s hand, leading him out of the tent without as much as a goodbye to his friends, who eyed the pair skeptically.

 

The evening was cool, the dark blue of the sky lulling most of the campgrounds to sleep. As the pair walked through it, murmuring of soldiers within their tents and the muted backdrop of nature accompanied them. “So, Captain Irwin,” Louis began, his eyes trained on the path ahead, “how long did you work as a spy?”

 

“Just under three years,” the captain said. “Also, you can call me Ashton, your grace.”

 

Louis nodded with a gentle smile, “Then, you can call me Louis.”

 

“I think that goes against some sort of moral code I have,” Ashton ducked his head, a sheepish grin on his face, “thank you, though.”

 

Louis shrugged, eyes flared up with determination and zoned in on his companion. “If you say so. So, three years and then off to the military. How did that play out? You must have had prior combat training to be put in as a captain.”

 

“I did. Being a spy did come with certain… situation that called for it, I suppose.”

 

The corner of the prince’s lip quirked up. “I see.” He stopped, and Ashton followed suit. “This May be a bit forward, but did you ever have to kill anyone in your line of work with said training?”

 

Ashton’s lips parted, eyes showing that he was unprepared for the question, and he frowned slightly in confusion. “Unfortunately, yes. However, that was only in very rare, compromising cases. Why do you ask?” The captain looked uncomfortable, and Louis had the decency to feel a bit guilty, but he stood his ground, taking a step closer to the other man.

 

“Ashton, I’m going to be frank with you. I need you not to relay any of this conversation to anyone at this camp. Is that understood?” The prince’s tone was solemn, the severity of the consequences laced with it. The captain could only nod, so he did, just to show that he did in fact understand. “Good.” Louis dropped his voice then, and the captain had to lean in everso little to hear him. “I need you to train me. I know a bit of technique from my own training at the castle, but I want to learn how to truly fight and how to be stealthy about it. General Styles would rather tie me to the post again than see me anywhere near a weapon. That’s why this has to stay between us.”

 

The captain’s face gave away his thoughts, torn and unsure. “Your grace, what you’re asking me for is assassination technique. May I ask why?”

 

_ Because I want to take down Grimshaw myself _ . “Because this is my fight, and I want to be a part of it. This is far more personal to me than anything I’ve encountered so far in my life, and I would die full of regret if I sat on the sidelines.” The answer wasn’t untruthful, but it wasn’t necessarily the whole story, either. Louis pursed his lips, taking a deep breath through his nose. “I’m sorry to put you in this situation, Captain, but this isn’t a request.”

 

The parts seemed to click into place, then, if Ashton’s expression was anything to go by. “I see,” the captain whispered, his frown deepening. “Your highness, I can’t in good conscience—”

 

“This isn’t a request,” Louis repeated, the words harsher than before. Desperation fell on the prince’s face, a flicker of vulnerability in them that the captain couldn’t quite deny. “Please, Ashton,” he said. “You can stand by me when the time comes, if it puts your mind at ease.” It was a lie. Louis knew that he would be doing this on his own, no matter what anyone may convince him to do otherwise. Again, the guilt gnawed at his bones, but he pushed forward. “Please.”

 

After a long, heavy pause, the captain let out a whoosh of air and nodded, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Okay,” he affirmed. “Okay, I will teach you, but know that it may be wise to back out sooner rather than later, when it is too late to do so.”

 

Louis beamed and— in a moment of genuine relief— threw his arms around the captain and patted his back. “Thank you, Ashton! Thank you so much. We can discuss the details in the morning! You have no idea what this means to me.”

 

With that, the prince gave Ashton one last squeeze before running off towards the general’s tent and out of the latter’s sight.

 

“You’re right,” the captain sighed into the night air, “I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone have any predictions on what may happen next ?
> 
> Are you enjoying the story so far ?(I know there’s a slow burn here, just give it time)
> 
> Let me know ! Comments and kudos, like always !


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton and Louis continue their training and have a heart to heart.
> 
> General Styles digs himself into a hole that he may not be able to get out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been... a long time, but I can explain.
> 
> I have finished all of my stories.
> 
> I took a hiatus to fully finish writing ALL of my stories, and now that they are complete, I will be posting periodically and FAR more frequently.
> 
> No more monthly gaps, no more waiting. The stories are ready to go.
> 
> Thank you for being patient. <3

It is a widely known fact that Prince Louis Tomlinson has never been and never will be a morning person. He was fully aware of what he was getting himself into when he convinced Captain Irwin to train him, but it did not make him despise the circumstances any less.

 

It had been just under two weeks since that night, and Louis-- to give credit where credit was due-- was learning everything quite quickly due to both his sparring lessons at the castle as well as his sheer determination.

 

However, his perfectionist qualities caused a bit of inner tension and, subsequently, a few moments of which Louis deemed to be far from his finest.

 

“Are you alright, Your highness?” Ashton asked worriedly as he held out a hand for the prince to grab.

 

From his sprawled position on the ground, Louis glared up at the captain and waved a dismissive and aggressive hand at him. “Irwin, I think we’ve passed the formalities at this point. You’ve knocked me into the dirt far too many times now for me to deserve your respect.” Louis grunted as he hoisted himself back onto his feet. As he caught the captain’s sympathetic gaze, he rolled his eyes. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine. The only thing that hurts is my ego.”

 

“Sorry, your highness-- erm, Louis,” the captain stammered. He watched helplessly as Louis set himself up for another round-- the tenth one in a row-- and frowned. “I think we may need to call it a day.”

 

“Ashton, you knocked me down! You didn’t incapacitate me. Now, come on.”

 

“Louis,” the captain interjected, his tone cautious. “We’ve been at it since before the sun started to come up. It’s almost time for Styles to begin morning regiments, and if you wish to remain hidden, perhaps sparring and yelling isn’t the best way to go about that.” The statement was true, but more than anything, Ashton didn’t want the prince to overexert himself. He himself was getting worn out, so he couldn’t imagine what someone like Louis must be feeling. He had the skills, but the frustration was rolling off of the prince in waves, and Ashton knew that no progress would be done in that state. “You should try to rest for a bit. We can even get in a session tonight, if you’d like.”

 

Louis’ shoulders sagged, his face dropping as the exhaustion caught up to him. He turned his head to see that the sun was indeed coming up. He sighed lightly, furrowing his brows and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re right,” he relented. “I’m sorry. I just want to know that I’m prepared, you know? I can’t afford any vulnerabilities.”

 

“Vulnerability might be the thing you’re missing, actually,” Ashton replied and made his way over to the prince, who snapped his head back in confusion. With a small smile, the captain took a seat on the fence, patting the open space next to him as an invitation. He waited for Louis to hop up before continuing. “It sounds odd, I know, but skill isn’t all that there is to fighting well, though it certainly helps.” Louis stayed silent but nodded to show he was listening. Ashton took a deep breath as he replayed the night that Louis told him he wanted training. It was a moment before he spoke again. “You told me that this was your fight, that it was personal to you. I won’t ask you to tell me what makes it personal or why the Grimshaw territory is our target. It isn’t my place to, but just know that… vulnerability isn’t a weakness. If you focus too much on perfection, you may start to focus  _ only _ on perfection and not your original intentions, if that makes any sense. If you have nothing to fight for, then why fight at all?” Ashton blinked, realizing he had been going off on a tangent, and glanced at Louis, whose own eyes seemed far away now, as if they were in another world entirely. “I’m sorry,” the captain laughed lightly to cut the tension, and the royal jerked out of his reverie at the sound. “I’m rambling. You’ve improved these past two weeks. You really have.” Ashton stepped down from the fence, Louis following suit.

 

“Thank you,” the prince said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Also, don’t apologize. You’re absolutely right. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

 

The pair smiled at one another, and it was at that same moment that General Styles could be heard approaching the sparring ring. Immediately, Louis and Ashton’s eyes widened in terror, and they sprung into action, collecting all of their gear and scurrying out of sight in the blink of an eye. They couldn’t get very far before General Styles rounded the corner, and Ashton pulled Louis down behind the weaponry barrels just in time.

 

They peeked out from between the spears and swords in front of them, breaths held as Harry stopped at the edge of the ring and spoke to Niall. “He isn’t here, either! I thought if we got a head start…”

 

“I think they’re looking for you,” Ashton whispered, stating the obvious, and Louis fixed the captain with a blank stare. They turned back to the general and Niall.

 

“You know, for someone who wants to keep their identity hidden, he sure does make a spectacle of himself,” Niall said, lighthearted but wary. “Shouldn’t you be keeping track of him, either way, though, Harry? I mean, he  _ is _ staying in your tent.”

 

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest with a childish pout, an act that Louis found somewhat endearing, in spite of himself.

 

“I’m only human, Niall! I can’t stay awake every hour of every day.”

 

“Well, that’s not very general-sounding of you,  _ sir _ .”

 

“You may be my friend, Niall, but I’m also still your superior…”

 

“It’s not my fault that the truth hurts,” Niall sniffed indignantly, but his smile was hard to miss. “Why even bother hiding his identity, anyways?” Niall inquired after a quiet moment of watching Harry search for the prince. “I mean, I don’t think there would be any harm in that.”

 

Harry hummed, shifting his weight to the left to peek around some of the tents. “Too risky,” he murmured distractedly. “Word could get out in any form: word of mouth, letters, maybe even spies of Grimshaw. If Grimshaw knows he’s here, there will no doubt be chaos within the day.”

 

Niall shrugged and tilted his head to the side for a second, finding the truth in his logic. He chuckled then, a fond smile aimed at the ground. “Louis had no problems telling Liam and I, that’s for sure.”

 

“ _The_ _Prince_ is incompetent.”

 

“ _ Harry _ !”

 

“ _ Incompetent _ ?” Louis gasped. “You little—”

 

Ashton cupped a hand over the Louis’ mouth and pulled him down in a lying position, holding the royal’s weight down with his own.

 

Blue met hazel, the former with incredulity and the latter with blatant fear.

 

“Did you hear that?” The general’s voice sounded from the other side of the barrels.

 

“Shit,” Ashton hissed and hoisted himself onto his hands and knees. “Shit, shit, shit. Come on, quickly, before they get over here.”

 

Louis just gulped and nodded, scrambling onto his hands and knees as well, and the pair crawled behind the nearest tent. The pair peered around the edge to see the scene unfold.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Ashton breathed when the General rounded the corner, confused rage evident in his stance and frown.

 

“What are you on about, mate?” Niall’s voice called from somewhere out of view. “I think Louis is making you into a loon, Styles,” he laughed lightheartedly.

 

The general’s frown deepened as he shot his friend a look. “ _ His highness _ is driving me up the wall with his antics.”

 

“Why do you insist on referring to him as his title? First of all, if someone hears you, they’re bound to get curious, and second, he’s been pretty adamant about us not giving him formalities.”

 

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “If we humanize him, Niall, that implies attachment,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for the eavesdropping pair to hear. “We can’t get attached. Soon, he’ll be out of our lives and forget all about who we were, specifically. There’s no point in starting relationships that are doomed to end.”

 

Ashton looked back at the prince, gauging his reaction with a saddened expression. Louis felt his face heat up as he clenched his fists into his pants, taking deep breaths to control himself. To say he was offended was an understatement.

 

Thankfully, Niall seemed upset by the general’s words as well. “If we  _ humanize _ him! Harry, do you even realize how you sound right now?” The Irishman all but shouted. “What is  _ wrong _ with you? You talk about him like he’s a stray dog that you found on the street! We aren’t  _ humanizing _ him. He  _ is _ human, and he’s also our king now. If you took the time to understand him or even have a decent conversation with him, maybe you wouldn’t act so cruel.”

 

The tension could be cut with a knife, but something like realization dawned on the general’s face, and he slowly turned fully to Niall. “You say that like you know what happened,” he said grimly. “If you know something, I’d advise you to let me know.”

 

Louis had heard enough.

 

He launched himself to his feet and side-stepped away from Ashton’s desperate advances to stop him. The prince rounded the corner and stood a short distance from the General’s turned back. Niall caught sight of him first, his blue eyes widening fractionally, but he said nothing.

 

“If you truly want to know what happened, I’d prefer you didn’t try and force it out of anyone else’s mouth.” The general pivoted towards the new voice, his eyes ablaze with the shock of both the prince’s words and the fact that he had been heard. Louis cleared his throat, trying to ignore his nerves. “I don’t believe Niall is in the business of sharing other people’s personal information. Of course, I’m not exactly  _ people _ to you, am I?”

 

Harry’s face dropped, alarmed. After the surprise wore off, he was quick to defend himself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

 

“Yes you did,” Louis clipped quickly, flatly. He gave the general a smile that matched his tone, his eyes expressive but somehow emotionless at the same time. It sat wrong with Harry. The look didn’t suit him, he thought. “The sun is up. You should probably focus on your  _ real _ job, instead of worrying about a soon-to-be stranger like me.”

 

With that, Louis walked back in the direction he came from, passing a dumbfounded Captain Irwin in his wake. He scrambled to his feet and caught up to the Royal, glancing back over his shoulder to see the General staring after the pair, green eyes dark and full of something Ashton didn’t dare to identify.

 

He didn’t acknowledge the General, which was probably the safer option, and leaned in towards his companion. “Are you alright?” he whispered.

 

“I’m fine,” Louis answered with glaring intensity. “I’m just happy to see where I stand with  _ General Styles _ , now.”

 

Louis’ thoughts drifted to the incident in Harry’s tent not too long ago, to the genuine kindness the man had shown him. He had thought that maybe… 

 

It didn’t matter now, Louis scolded himself. He had a tendency to put his trust in people too easily.

 

He had learned his lesson.

 

__________

 

The guilt had been eating Harry alive since the morning, and everyone had taken note of their general’s uncharacteristically distracted state.

 

Niall had been leading most of the day’s drills, and it didn’t fall off of Harry’s radar that the captain had been giving him angry looks periodically.

 

He currently sat on an unoccupied bench, biting the side of his thumb and staring at nothing in particular.

 

He pondered over the events from earlier over and over again. Why had he said that? He had meant it, but not really. Harry had determined that it was all a matter of defense and self-preservation, a matter of pride, and he felt like a child. He was a hypocritical child who would rather hurt those around him than accept that maybe he was anything other than impermeable.

 

Harry knew he had to apologize, but that was something he rarely did, and he wasn’t sure how or where to start.

 

His own mind thought back to that night where the prince had been drunk and crying, not that he was aware that the general knew of the latter.

 

_ It’s none of my business _ , he had told himself. The fact of the matter was that it very much  _ was _ his business, not only because of his role as “protector” but also because he felt a personal pull towards Louis, despite the logical side of him screaming its protests.

 

Harry knew he had to apologize. It seemed ridiculous to him, on the surface, but altogether necessary, deep down.

 

He wondered when and why his life had become so dramatic.

 

With a sigh, the General raked his eyes over the sparring grounds, searching for the prince but coming up dry. Captain Irwin was present, and so Harry’s focus centered on him, instead.

 

__________

 

_ “He’s with Irwin,” Harry said airily with skeptic befuddlement etched into his words. _

 

_ Niall approached his friend, refusing to look him in the eye but acknowledging him nonetheless. “Irwin?” He said, his focus on the barrels to his left. _

 

_ “Yeah,” Harry drawled. “Louis asked about him a little over a week ago. I thought he was just…” Harry shook his head, abruptly turning away from the retreating pair. “Nevermind. Do you think he’s been with Irwin this whole time, sneaking off with him to do God knows what at night and in the mornings?” _

 

_ Niall squinted questioningly. “It’s possible,” he said slowly, eyeing Harry’s back as he followed. “You sound worried.” Niall noted the tension that pinched Harry’s shoulders and the twitch of the general’s hands at his words. He realized something then that made him stop dead in his tracks. “Wait. You called him Louis.” _

 

_ Harry stopped briefly, huffing quietly before continuing forward without another word. _

 

__________

 

What was it that Louis and Ashton were sneaking off to do every night? Could it have anything to do with what happened to the Royal? It seemed to Harry that everyone knew what happened but him. Niall, for sure, and presumably Ashton and Liam. The desperation to know everything felt like a serpent coiling around his brain and constricting with no mercy in sight. He had to know.

 

He decided then that the only way to understand Louis Tomlinson and— with what little faith he had— fix the issue at hand, he had to apologize, and he  _ had to know what was going on _ .

 

With a final glare towards Captain Irwin, who was tapping the fence impatiently as if waiting for this all to end (or perhaps from the fact that Harry was flowering at him), he decided to follow the pair and investigate. In his mind, it was the only way to figure all of this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no ... things are getting a bit out of hand .
> 
> Not to worry, this IS a love story, after all! It’s all a matter of time!
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT AND LEAVE KUDOS ! LET ME KNOW YOUR OPINIONS, YOUR PREDICTIONS !
> 
> Is Harry truly as bad of a person as he’s made out to be, or is there some truth to all of this miscommunication?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the morning...
> 
> Harry learns something important.
> 
> Louis begins to have more self-doubt than he reveals to others.
> 
> But... progress is made, despite the odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so happy to be back, but I have to make a note here:
> 
> The characters in this story are flawed, just as real people are . The coping mechanisms, actions, and thoughts that they have are not always perfect . This is a story about healing and learning .
> 
> By the end of the story, these characters will change . Please give them time .

The next time Harry saw the prince, it was during lunch.

 

Niall, though he only spoke to his friend when absolutely necessary, walked with him to the open dining tents. However, the Irishman suddenly sped up and away from him, and Harry’s eyes followed his path to see Louis, Liam, and Zayn speaking with one another in line for food. He frowned, guilt and aggravation twisting grimly in his gut.

 

He came to a gradual halt and observed the group from afar. Niall approached them with a wave and a shout, the trio waving back in greeting and opening a space for him in their circle. Louis’ smile didn’t quite meet his eyes, and Niall reciprocated with a sympathetic one of his own, lightly patting the prince’s shoulder. Some words were exchanged, but Harry was far from earshot.

 

He continued forward and forced his attention on the rest of his men, all in various stages of their lunch break. It seemed that it wasn’t difficult for only the General to ignore Louis, as the prince was approached or at least acknowledged by just about everyone he passed. He was familiar with a good number of the soldiers, and Harry found his attention unwillingly stuck on the prince once more.

 

His movements were quick, yet calculated when he interacted with people, as if he’d rehearsed the conversations he was having. It would make sense that he had, in Harry’s mind. Louis was groomed to be a diplomat, practically since birth. Charisma was a must when negotiating and charming the people around you. It was obvious that he was— at the very least— from the upper class. He was graceful and well-spoken. It was beyond him how the soldiers had not caught on.

 

Even when he was angry at Harry— which he was more often than not, this morning a prime example of that— he still spoke eloquently. He was very powerful, and the thought that Louis will make a good king struck Harry once again.

 

However, it didn’t change anything. He was still on bad terms with the royal, still in the dark as to what truly happened, and thus, his thoughts were irrelevant to everyone but himself. Until things were smoothed over, Harry felt that he had no right to think anything of Louis, other than of his safety.

 

The General was still staring when Louis locked eyes with him. Surprisingly, the haunting blue eyes of the prince remained steady and unwavering. They were the same as they had been that morning: intense, yet lifeless; fiery, yet calm. It was as if a piece of his humanity had been stripped away, leaving only the shadow of an emotion, rather than the emotion itself. It was as though he knew the emotion he should feel but could not feel it, only convey it by muscle memory.

 

To have so much emotion and yet so little at the same time…  it disturbed the general, and so, he looked away.

 

__________

 

Louis, in his own mind, was balancing precariously on the line of normalcy and insanity. The second he locked eyes with General Styles, his thoughts grew from a persistent hum to a scream.

 

_ “If we humanize him, Niall, that implies attachment. We can’t get attached. Soon, he’ll be out of our lives and forget all about who we were, specifically.” _

 

There was a truth to the General’s words, Louis relented, but it bothered the prince to think that Harry would think of him so lowly. He would never forget the people who helped him through the darkest era of his life.

 

Despite this, it still stood that he had been dehumanized for a second time— in a different sense, perhaps, but the effect was the same. Prince Grimshaw dehumanized him in the sense of objectifying him, using his body as nothing more than an outlet, a display of power and dominance. He made him feel helpless, dirty, and as though his standing meant nothing when he was in that room. General Styles, on the other hand, dehumanized him in a way that attacked his sense of purpose. No, he had not laid a hand on him the way that Grimshaw had, but his words cut deep, left him questioning if his emotions were worth feeling at all. General Styles dehumanized him by being kind to him and then being cruel. Louis knew that he still had not properly coped with everything that had happened to him, was still trying to recollect his self-worth, and Harry was snatching the pieces from his hands, leaving him hollow.

 

_ How many times must someone be treated as though they are not human before they believe that they are not? _

 

Louis had pondered this thought since that morning, a cloud of indifference layered over his eyes and words when he spoke. A few soldiers— inclusive of Captain Irwin, Liam, and Zayn— asked if he was alright, to which he politely smiled and reassured them that he was.

 

His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of everything: the kingdom, his anticipated return to the throne, the impending war, the death of his family, the loss of his innocence, the confusing General Styles, and the overarching idea that his heart was empty.

 

To have a crowded mind and a desolate heart… it disturbed the prince, and so, he too looked away.

 

__________

 

“Today, we are leaving the grounds,” Harry shouted to the crowd of soldiers who stood before him. “You have been conditioning and improving your abilities and strength. However, that is not all that there is to war. You not only have to be wary of the condition of your body but of your mind, as well.” The general raised an open palm behind the men, urging them to look above and beyond the campgrounds, where a forested hill stood high and strong. “The earth represents stability, strength, and life. Finding and appreciating these things is essential to success, and that includes success in war.” Harry lowered his arm, speaking only once all of the soldiers had faced him once more. “You are to be at the top of the hill by tomorrow night. The surplus tent has arranged a number of camping equipment, but not enough for everyone. You will all need to work together in pairs. Help one another, appreciate the nature around you, find beauty in the life you are given. When at war, a man will either cling to these things and those he loves and fight for them or forget about them and fight blindly. Men who forget their values seldom find true success.”

 

When Harry finished his speech, a heavy silence followed. Then, Captain Horan cleared his throat and signaled for the men to begin pairing up and collecting their supplies.

 

Off to the side, Louis and Liam listened on, walking to the surplus tent themselves. “He speaks beautifully,” Louis said, quiet and distant, almost as if to himself. Liam turned to the royal and nodded in agreement.

 

“General Styles was born to a poor family, but he refused to let it define him,” the soldier explained. “As you know, the kingdom only educates the wealthy, exceptions very far and few between. Harry learned through those around him. He read books as often as he breathed and attended as many royal outings as he could. He charmed his way into an education. Much like you, he has a silver tongue.”

 

Louis frowned darkly, his nose twitching minutely in contempt. “He abuses that gift,” he spat. “When you are well spoken, insults and threats can be just as powerful as positive words. A silver tongue with no filter is dangerous.”

 

Liam chuckled, “are you implying that you have a filter, your highness?”

 

“I’m implying that I would not use my words with ignorance. He hurts people, Liam, and he seldom realizes it because of his arrogance.” Liam frowned, and opened his mouth to argue, but the royal held up a shaking hand. “I am aware of my own pride, Liam. There’s no need to remind me. All I am saying is that he needs to learn that there is more to the world than knowing how to convey your thoughts. He needs to learn the gravity of the things he says.”

 

Liam’s mouth opened and closed a few times. In the end, his lips tightened into a thin line, and he nodded. “I understand, your majesty,” he said, and the conversation was over.

 

Louis saw the dejected expression his friend war and sighed, wrapping a tentative hand on the man’s shoulder. He waited until Liam met his eyes before smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry. I know he is your friend, and I haven’t spoken too kindly of him. I won’t speak of him around you anymore, not unless it is necessary.”

 

The pair shared an understanding smile, and Liam nodded. “I’m sorry, too. Harry is my friend, but I also know how difficult he is to be around…”

 

Louis laughed, rolling his eyes. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

 

It still hung heavy over his heart, the emotions Louis was feeling. He still needed to work through everything, and Harry wasn’t helping in the slightest. His life was chaotic, and all he could do was carry on. There was no time for grief, not yet. Perhaps, he thought, he could heal in fragments, through these soldiers he surrounded himself with. If he couldn’t focus on himself, he could focus on his people. For now, it would have to be enough.

 

He stared at the back of the General’s head and watched as the man prepared his own camping equipment and wondered if there was anything heavy that hung on his heart, just as something heavy hung on his own.

 

If Harry did not understand empathy, at least Louis could try and teach him, thereby healing them both.

 

__________

 

The trek up the hill was exhausting on Louis’ still weak body. He could hold himself in a sparring match, but cardio was not quite up to his level, yet.

 

“I’m locked away for  _ months _ , and as soon as I escape, I’m forced to climb up a mountain,” the prince muttered in pained exasperation. “Kings don’t climb mountains…”

 

Niall laughed heartily to his right, adjusting the straps of his overnight duffel over his shoulder. “We’re over halfway there, Lou. You’ll be alright.” The captain then have an apologetic side-glance. “I am sorry, though. We should be at the top in about an hour.”

 

Louis groaned, his eyes fixing irritably on the back of Harry’s head in front of them. “When Styles gave that speech earlier, I thought I would be staying behind.”

 

“Well, we couldn’t exactly leave you alone, within the grounds or not,” Niall reasoned. “I think Harry would rather have you in his sights and off of the grounds than out of his sights at all.”

 

“You know what, you’re right,” Louis quipped. He then raised his voice, making sure the General in front of them could hear clearly. “Perhaps if I’m constantly in his sights, then I won’t forget about him! Apparently, my memory will go to shit, if I leave him for a while!”

 

Harry didn’t react other than his shoulders hunching towards his ears and his head hanging lower. The tension in his back was visible.

 

Niall clicked his tongue. “He feels awful, Louis,” he whispered. “His actions this morning were despicable, but trust me when I say he doesn’t mean it. He’s worried, and he doesn’t get worried about people. He isn’t sure how to show it.”

 

Louis but his bottom lip. “He should feel awful,” he replied. “That’s what he should be showing me.”

 

Niall’s eyebrows raised, and he nodded. “I agree.”

 

“Thank you for defending me,” Louis said. “I can tell it was out of the goodness of your heart, not just because I’m royalty, and that means the world.” He turned to the soldier and locked him with a meaningful gaze. “And for the record, I could never and  _ would _ never forget those who helped me through all of this.” The sun was beginning to go down, and he was sure that if Niall’s grin could have lit up their path, it would have. “Thank you,” he repeated.

 

“No need to thank me,” Niall chirped, still grinning as he faced forward again. “I would have done the same for any of my friends.”

 

_ Friends _ , Louis mused warmly.

 

“Yes, I consider us friends,” Niall said, as if he could read the prince’s thoughts.

 

“I do, too,” Louis responded softly, wrapping his hands around Niall’s bicep as they walked. Both of them were grinning now. “Now, carry me. If I walk anymore, I think I might collapse.”

 

Niall guffawed, but amusement was evident in the crinkles of his eyes. “I’m already carrying luggage! You’re fine!”

 

“I thought we were friends, Niall! How dare you lie to me— oof!”

 

Distracted by their banter, Louis’ body collided with something solid. Harry stood, facing the pair as the rest of the soldiers kept walking.

 

“I’ll carry you,” his voice rumbled through Louis’ body. The General had a hand on Louis’ hip, steadying him from falling back. Blue met green, the aching tension keeping them in place.

 

When the shock wore off, Louis glared at the man and slapped his hand away. “I think I’d rather collapse, but thank you.” Before he could step away, Harry’s hand gripped his arm this time, firm and unrelenting.

 

“If I let you collapse, I am not doing my job,” Harry said, his voice demanding but choked, desperate almost.

 

“Yes, well that is all you seem to care about, isn’t it?”

 

“Should it not be?”

 

At that, Louis stilled. The pair stared at one another in silence, Niall’s own eyes bouncing between them like a tennis match as he stepped back a bit.

 

It hit Louis then: Harry had no obligation to care about who Louis was as a person. The only connection they needed to have was a professional one, and for whatever reason, that fact could not settle comfortably within him.  _ Perhaps, I am too emotional _ , he thought.

 

“Perhaps, I am too emotional,” he voiced, “but you said yourself that people who fight for things they care about find success more than those who fight blindly. If you truly want success, find something to care for, other than simply your job. Your job is set in stone, so you have no need to worry about it”

 

Harry’s hard gaze softened a bit. “You actually listened to my speech.”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, jerking out of the general’s grasp and throwing his hands to the heavens. “That’s all you got from that?” he cried. “Niall, tell me that you’re hearing this!”

 

Niall bit back his amusement, trying his best not to laugh. The General smiled unconsciously, watching the little prince.

 

“I’ll carry you,” Harry repeated, handing his bags to Niall’s open arms.

 

Louis pivoted on his heel, his expression comically exasperated. “Are you sense? You think that after all you said to me, that I will let you lay a hand on me, let alone  _ carry _ me?”

 

“We are sharing a tent tonight. I think that goes beyond the intimacy of me carrying you when you’re tired.”

 

That silenced the smaller man, his blue eyes narrow as if calculating the logic of what Harry had said. After a moment, he groaned but approached the General once more. “Fine.”

 

Niall and Harry shared a smile as Harry crouched to the ground, waiting until Louis climbed on before standing again.

 

“You’re very light,” Harry noted as they began walking.

 

“That’s what happens when you live hardly eaten for months,” Louis muttered. He felt Harry’s body stiffen from beneath him, and the prince remembered that the man was still in the dark as to what had happened. Before he was subject to questioning, Louis switched topics. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. I still haven’t.”

 

Still tense, the General sighed. “I know.”

 

Louis took a deep breath, the exhaustion catching up to him. He rested his forehead on the General’s shoulder, surprised when he felt goosebumps rise on the exposed skin of the man’s neck. “I know that you hate me,” Louis informed, his voice small and only for Harry to hear, “but you’re right. You deserve to know why you’re protecting me. I will tell you everything. Just please let me do it when we’re alone, and please don’t judge me if it takes me a moment to get through it all. I’m still… I’m still very shaken.”

 

Harry didn’t reply with words, but Louis felt the air leave the man’s body, as if the weight of this very moment was released from his muscles. He then tilted his own head onto Louis’, a comforting gesture that had both of their cheeks warming up, though neither of them could see.

 

Niall saw this out of his peripherals, but he too said nothing, only widening his eyes and averting them before smiling knowingly to himself.

 

Harry looked ahead and saw Captain Irwin speaking with a few soldiers. He still planned to follow them, unless Louis revealed why they were together this morning. He took a mental note to ask about it, but for now, he focused on the path ahead and on Louis soft breath on his neck. This was a step in the right direction. He still had so many questions, so many hesitations, and just the acknowledgment of that gave him a migraine, but after today, Louis had taught him— if nothing else— the importance of empathy, of letting someone tell you who they are before assuming who they are.

 

For the first time since he was very young, Harry felt the ice around his heart begin to thaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts, comments, and kudos !
> 
> Side Note:  
> If you have any questions you’d like to ask about this story, please do in the comments ! If you are confused about anything, have any questions about the characters or the world of the story, or if you just want to ask me anything, feel free to ! I was thinking about posting a Q&A if necessary, and I would love to hear what you guys are thinking about, so far .
> 
> Tell me what you think, and by all means, ask away ! xx
> 
> Thank you for reading


	8. Chapter 8

“Tell me if I get too heavy.”

 

“I wouldn’t, even if you were, which you’re not.”

 

“Right, but we’re on an incline, and after a while--”

 

“Your highness,” Harry cut in, and Louis could hear the smile creeping onto his face. “You’re fine. I promise.”

 

The soon-to-be-king didn’t reply but tightened his arms around Harry’s neck, yawning into his own shoulder. “How long until we get there?” Louis asked, turning to Niall with glassy eyes.

 

The Irishman smiled softly but kept his face forward, squinting at the darkening path ahead of them. “Shouldn’t be long now. I can see the clearing at the top of the hill. We can set up camp there, right Styles?”

 

Harry adjusted Louis on his back and nodded. “We should be set up before midnight but not long before.” He jostled the prince. “You can sleep as soon as the tent is set up, princess.”

 

“Princ _ ess _ ?” Louis gasped, smacking General Styles’ chest with his left hand. “I’m still upset with you, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that I am your  _ king _ , General,” he reprimanded in a harsh whisper.

 

“My apologies,” Harry murmured, sincere but amused, nonetheless. To their side, Niall huffed a laugh through his nose.

 

Looking around, Louis could see that the soldiers around them were faring much better than he was, only a few of them out of breath or showing signs of exhaustion. The difference in the men’s physicalities was astronomical from when he arrived, probably even more so than before. General Styles-- to state the obvious-- was brilliant at what he did, even if he was a pain the ass.

 

“Maybe I should start training with this lot,” he said, to which both Harry and Niall snorted. “Oi, I’m capable! Don’t act like it’s a ridiculous thought.”

 

“All due respect, Louis,” Niall replied quietly, wary of those walking around them, “but I think you may be a bit late to the party for that. For one, these men have been training for months. You couldn’t catch up, and two, if anyone were to lay a hand on you, the royal council would have a meltdown, not to mention Harry.”

 

The general laughed, hiking the small prince up to adjust. “He could do whatever he likes. Maybe the experience would humble him a bit.”

 

“Humble me,” Louis grumbled. “I could keep up just fine, thank you. I was locked away, not incapacitated. I do have a bit of sword training, you know.”

 

“And I’m sure that it’s commendable, but you would still fall flat on your face against any of my men.” Louis rolled his eyes at the sight of the general’s ego inflating. “They are trained only by the best to be the best.”

 

“And you say that I need to be humbled…”

 

“Like I said, your grace, pride is my downfall, just as it is yours,” Harry reminded lightly, slowing down his steps to a gradual halt. Louis watched on as the soldiers walked ahead, taking their bags off of their shoulders and beginning to set up camp for the night. Harry lowered the prince to the ground and turned once he stepped off. “Thank you, Niall,” he said, taking the overnight bag the Irishman had been carrying. He walked away without giving Louis a second glance, and the smaller man was forced to jog up to him.

 

Louis watched as Harry took out the various supplies: the spikes for the tent, blankets, pillows, etc. As the general began laying out the foundation, he gave Louis a sheepish grin. “Could you help me set this up? We have a larger tent than the rest, so it’s a two-man job.”

 

Louis crossed his arms and raised a brow, sporting an unimpressed look on his delicate features.

 

“Oh, you need my help? Are you sure I could handle it, being a  _ princess  _ and all? Prick...”

 

Harry sighed from his kneeled position, rubbing his damp forehead with his hand. “I stand corrected. Princesses don’t speak the way you do.”

 

Louis, surprisingly, laughed at the response. Harry’s head shot up at the sound and was met with a stunning smile from the royal, crinkled eyes and lips parted in elegant amusement.

 

_ Beautiful _ , the general mused before realizing that Louis had replied. “Sorry, come again?” he said.

 

“I said, so you’ve told me. That might be the third time I’ve heard that since I’ve been here and about the thousandth time in my life.”

 

Realizing that Louis had yet to move and was probably not going to help any time soon, Harry continued to nail in the pikes for the tent. “Should that not tell you something about your behavior, then? If you heard it at the castle, I assume it’s something of a reprimand.”

 

He didn’t look up from his task, but he heard Louis rounding the other side of the tent and shuffling through the duffel. “I suppose, but I’ve never been good at biting my tongue nor taking direction.”

 

Harry guffawed, tying the corner rope of the tent. “Tell me something I don’t already know. You break the rules before they are even asked of you. For instance, I would think it to be common sense not to break into a general’s tent to steal a razor from him.”

 

“I would think it to be common sense not to tie a royal to a post like an animal, so I guess we both lack in that department,” the prince mocked with petulance. Harry only sighed, albeit with a smile threatening to break it.

 

Louis glanced discreetly between Harry’s corner of the tent and his own, unwilling to admit that he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was doing. He copied the general’s movements, nailing in the corners of the tent and tying it just so. A burst of pride swelled in his chest at his handiwork as the two set up the structure together in comfortable silence.

 

The prince couldn’t help but admire the general as he worked: harsh lines of authority smoothed out in place of a barely there smile. He seemed at peace there, among the serene backdrop of nature. It was easy to forget the circumstances of everything, and, perhaps, that was the Harry’s intention. Looking around, Louis could see the tension melting off of everyone’s shoulders, spilling into the earth and away into the night, far beneath the campground. It was infectious, the soft sense of joy around them. This small escape— alongside Harry’s earlier speech— bloomed an unfamiliar warmth in his belly and an overwhelming thought that maybe the general had done this all for him.

 

Louis scoffed quietly and shook his head.  _ What a ridiculous thought _ .

 

“Something amusing, your highness?” Harry’s voice, holding its own bit of mirth, came from the other side of the tent.

 

At the sight of the general’s smile, the warmth in Louis’ belly quickly grew to an uncomfortable heat that rose to his cheeks. “No,” he replied softly. The royal cleared his throat, grimacing upon hearing the timidity in his tone. “Not at all,” he restated, this time with more confidence.

 

Harry raised a brow, not replying, but the smile remained on his lips, and the glint in his eye was still visible.

  
  


__________

  
  


By the time the sun had gone down, everyone had settled into various festivities for the evening. Many were— to the astonishment of no one— drinking and making merry, while others chose to spar or gamble over cigarettes and snacks that had been sent from home.

 

Louis had joined a smaller group of men in venturing to the nearby creek to gaze at the stars, making far less aggressive conversation. The seven of them laid on their backs in a circle, their heads towards the center but facing up towards the heavens, each having casual banter with those next to them.

 

The voice of a man Louis believed was named Joshua chimed in over the gentle hum. “So, Lewis, right? What is your relationship to General Styles, if you don’t mind me asking.” The side conversations hushed instantly, all the men curious as to what the secret royal had to say. “You don’t have to answer, if I’m being invasive. I just know everyone has been curious. Thought I’d ask you before I believed any of the rumors.”

 

“Rumors…” Louis chuckled. “Please, tell me some of these rumors. I need a good laugh after being around that bastard all day.”

 

The circle rippled with laughter for a moment, before Joshua spoke up again. “Well, let’s see. The main talk of the camp is that you’re his lover from back in Donny.”

 

“Rubbish!” Another voice— Sheeran— guffawed. “What twit would tie his own partner to a target post?”

 

“Maybe it gets him going. He is an authority. Maybe he takes that with him  _ off the battlefield _ !”

 

The group fell into another roar laughter, sans the prince, whose face grew hot despite his entertained grin. He shook his head in both endearment and disbelief as the rest continued.

 

“You two  _ do _ fight like it’s a lover’s quarrel. I swear it’s like watching me mum and dad.”

 

“True, and the sexual tension is through the—”

 

“Can I get a word in?” Louis all but shouted, exasperation and hilarity hopping through his words. “I’d rather not hear about what may or may not be Styles’ bedroom habits, thank you very much. Also— to clarify— we are far from being  _ lovers _ .”

 

“If you say so,” Joshua sing-songed merrily, the laughter gradually dying out into occasional giggles.

 

“Besides, Styles’ ego is large enough that if I told him to go fuck himself, he probably would,” Louis added, which kickstarted yet another chorus of howling.

 

“My god!” Another soldier gasped in his riot, “If the general heard you say that, he’d have a conniption fit!”

 

“Probably,” Louis shrugged, though no one could see it. “All jokes aside, I think he’s actually good at heart. He just won’t admit it.” Everyone hummed in agreement, and the warm silence settled between everyone once again. “I do wonder how he would behave if he were to wind down for a night like this, though.”

 

Before anyone could voice their thoughts or opinions, a series of thuds and the crackling of branches sounded from somewhere nearby, and all of the men shot up at attention. A pair of voices followed the commotion, shushing one another and laughing giddily. All of the men in the circle sported varying faces of confusion and alert, eyes on the unseen source of it all. Then, two silhouettes emerged from the brush. Well, one silhouette emerged while the other stumbled.

 

“I hear a party!”  A familiar voice called out excitedly. “Liam, why weren’t we invited?”

 

“Harry, I think this is a… a private thing.”

 

“I have privates!”

 

“God, help me. No, Harry. I mean, I think they were trying to get  _ away _ from drunk arses like you.”

 

“I’m not drunk! I’m just excited to see my best soldiers!”

 

The moonlight shone on the “private party” which saw all jaws drop consecutively into the grass.

 

Captain Payne and General Styles made their way to the group, who was still speechless at the sight before them.

 

Payne rubbed the back of his and looked to the ground, the barely visible grass becoming interesting in the way only distractions can. 

 

Meanwhile, Harry opened up his arms in a grand gesture to the soldiers before him, an empty bottle reflecting the stars in his left fist. “Good evening, lads!”

 

“Good evening?” The group replied in confusion.

 

“Harry, please leave before you make a fool of yourself,” Liam pleaded, his hands now covering his face in worry and despair.

 

“No, Harry, please stay so that you can make a fool of yourself!” Louis invited, scooting over a bit and patting the grass next to him.

 

Harry giggles like a child and plopped on to the grass, where everyone was now facing one another in the circle.

 

Liam muttered curses to his ancestors— or someone of the like— from a few feet away.

 

The general hummed knowingly, waving his bottle at Louis in a chastising manner, but his grin was stupidly amused. “I won’t go making a fool of myself, don’t you worry! And you lot won’t make a fool of me either.”

 

Louis smiled back because he couldn’t not, and promptly swiped the bottle from Harry’s hand. Tossing it away, the royal responded, “we’ll see how the next few minutes goes. Actually, Styles, it’s funny that you’re here now. We were just talking about you!”

 

The group tittered and shifted around in a mix of nervousness and elation.

 

Still clouded by his drunken stupor, Harry gasped, clutching at his chest. “You were? What about exactly?”

 

Louis smirked, eyebrows raising into an expression of smugness. “We were discussing rumors, one in particular, as a matter of fact.”

 

“I have heard many rumors about myself, in my time.” Harry provided, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting up straight as he could while threatening to topple over. His posture held the air of a spoiled child. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

 

“Oh? The prospect of our heated love affair doesn’t shock you?”

 

“Not in the slightest— wait, what?”

 

At the sight of the general’s eyes popping out his head, even Liam burst into a cackle at that, along with the rest of the men.

 

“Oh, my dear,” Louis patted Harry’s frozen face lovingly, “this party is about to become very interesting.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments! I know my other works have been put on a hold for a long time, but I thought I would give you guys this to tide you over for a couple of days before I start updating again.


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